
Class / ^VS'^ r^S' 
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COPyRiGHT DEPOSm 



VERSES 



BY 

CHARLOTTE LEECH 



Oft 



Ube Iknicfierbocfter press 

NEW YORK 

1917 






Copyright, 1917 

BY 

MARY LEECH BLAKE 



141317 



©GI,A477546 

^ ■ rr, 



-^ ^^/2^<£^ 



. i F 



DeDfcatlon 

TO 

W. E. L. 



Whoever finds this book in after days, 
Whether he read to mock, or smile, or praise, 
We shall not care, it was not writ for him 
Nor for the many with their hourly whim; 
But made — witness m}^ hand — for You alone. 
Heedless if there were other Reader none. 
If this he'll neither comprehend nor brook: — 
The world is wide, there's many another Book. 



FOREWORD 

May it be said, by way of explanation, that 
the intimate or family Verses, svhich appear in 
the latter pages of this book, were never in- 
tended for publication, nor would they see the 
light now were it not that this collection is 
intended strictly for private distribution. 

A number of the miscellaneous poems have 
appeared in The Century, The Atlantic, The 
Independent, The Critic, The Era, The Christian 
Register, Life, and Puck. A few have never 
been in print before. 

The Dedication would make it appear that 
a collection of these Verses, in book form, was 
at one time contemplated by the author, but 
such an idea was never for a moment enter- 
tained. 

The Dedication was written for her private 
Scrap Book, in which she had gathered together 
such of her Verses as had appeared in print, 
and from which this little volume has been pre- 
pared, '' In Memoriam." 

Mary Leech Blake. 
Harriet W. R. Leech. 

Brooklyn, N. Y. 
June, 1917. 



CONTENTS 



All Saints' Day . . 

The House . . . . 

Home Thoughts 

Out of the Depths . 

To One in Heaven 

Serenade ..... 

Easter ..... 

Angel of Silence 

Daffodils .... 

Paraphrase of the Ninetieth Psalm 

In Autumn .... 

A Christmas Letter . 

Sweetness and Light 

The Road to Emmaus 

My Creed . . . 

"Whom will ye that I Release unto 

Love and Conscience 

"Ye Did it unto me." 

Home ..... 

Creeds ..... 

Failure . . . . 

vii 



YOU? 



PAGE 

I 

2 

4 
5 

7 
8 

9 

10 

II 

12 

14 
15 
16 

18 

19 
20 
21 
22 

24 
25 
26 



viii 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


Use and Wont 


. 


27 


God's Fool 


• ••••« 


29 


The Reformer 


. 


30 


Belief 


. 


31 


By the Sea 


. 


32 


Pandora . 


. 


33 


A Little Grave 


. . 


35 


Jessie Leigh of 


Perth .... 


36 


The Chrysanth] 


3MUM. . . . . 


42 


Resignation 


. 


43 


The Sisters 


. 


44 


Recompense 


. 


49 


A Mood . 


. 


50 


The Scapegoat 


. 


51 


Paraphrase of i 


HE One Hundred and Thirtieti 


i 


Psalm 


. 


53 


The Burial 


. 


55 


Bereft 


. 


56 


Then and Now 


. 


57 


The Daughter ( 


DF THE Mayflower . 


58 


The Fire-Fly 


. 


60 


A Question 


. 


62 


Salutatory 


. 


. 64 


Farewell 


. 


. 65 


The Seventies 


. 


. 68 


Golden Jubilee 


Song .... 


■ 69 



CONTENTS 


ix 




PAGE 


Song, 1873 


71 


A New Offertory Hymn . . . . . 


72 


Renunciation 


73 


The Pulpit and the Pews . . . . 


74 


" It IS Expedient " . . . . . . 


86 


Friar Benedict's Prayer . . . . . 


87 


An Etching ...... 


91 


The Ebbing Tide ...... 


92 


The Might of Mirth .... 


94 


MULTUM IN PaRVO ..... 


96 


Saint Philip Neri ..... 


97 


" I Read my Books in Woman's Looks " 


100 


The Impecunious Tutor . . . 


102 


To Jane Austen ...... 


105 


On an Old Volume of "Punch, " Containing Johi 


»^'" 


Leech's Pictures .... 


107 


The Brontes * . 


108 


To George Eliot . . . . 


109 


Burns ....... 


no 


Jane Welsh Carlyle .... 


III 


Boswell 


112 


Saint Bridget's Day .... 


• 113 


Emerson 


. 114 


Richard Watson Gilder .... 


. 115 


On a Late Victorian .... 


. 116 


Under the Wizard's Spell 


• 117 



X CONTENTS 




m 


mn 


PAGE 


Destiny .118 


A City Sonnet .... 






119 


A Lullaby 






120 


August, 1878 . . . . 






121 


Mine Own People 






122 


My Vanished Youth 






123 


To-day . . . . 






124 


"I HAVE Loved and been Loved" 






. 126 


To Young America ... 






. 127 


Hymn 






128 


GOLDENROD ON StAR IsLAND. 






129 


Religion . . . . 






131 


Moonlight .... 






132 


"Within You" 






133 


Rest 






134 


I Loved Thee Once . 






136 


Brooklyn Town 






137 


Annie Laurie .... 






139 


Environment .... 






. 141 


Holy Innocents 






. 142 


The Return .... 






■ 143 


A Woman's Litany . 






. 145 


Retrospect .... 






146 


Tragedy 






147 


"Complire" .... 






148 



CONTENTS 


xi 




PAGE 


My Epitaph ...... 


. 150 


After Heine ...... 


151 


To A Reclaimed Sofa 


152 


A Birthday Wish 


154 


A Duke's a Duke for a' that . 


. 155 


The American Girl's Appeal 


. 156 


At the Door ...... 


. 158 


An Epitaph ...... 


159 


In the Lane ...... 


160 


The Three Graces ..... 


161 


Questionings (After Wordsworth) . 


162 


The Retort Courteous .... 


164 


The London " Times " .... 


. 165 


The Wishing Gate Visited 


166 


A Socialist ..... 


. 168 


The Thistle 


169 


A Song ....... 


. 171 


A Valentine ...... 


. 172 


Through Life ...... 


. 173 


Bliss ....... 


. 174 


"B" or no ''B"— That's the Question! . 


. 176 


Jack Writes to his Brother 


. 177 


An Epitaph ...... 


. 179 


The Cat and the Fiddle — Likewise the Bow 


180 


The Retort Positive . , . . 


. 183 



Xll 



CONTENTS 



Reckoning 

Tommy Sees a Meteor 

The Sermon . . ? 

A "Revised" Nursery Rhyme 

In Church 

True .... 

High Life . . . 

To Bob — A Leap-Year Valentine 

Lines on an Authoress 

St. Valentine's Eve (In Imitation of Keats) 

An Imaginary Epistle to Landor 

The Reason ...... 

At the Sign of the Three Balls 
Grandfather and Child ... 

Whip-poor-Will and Katy-Did . 
The Truth about Polly .... 

The Higher Education of Women 
As TO Joseph Chamberlain 



The Reckoning 
Candle." 



"The Game Isn't Worth the 



A Grandmother's Story . . . 

To Gordon Pryor Rice : with a Copy of the 
RUBAIYAT . . . . . 

K. C. of C. C 

To M. H. B. : with a Copy of Mrs. Pryor's 
Reminiscences ...... 



PAGE 
184 

186 
188 
189 
191 
192 

196 
198 
200 
201 
203 
204 
207 
208 
209 

210 
211 

214 
219 



CONTENTS xiii 

PAGE 

Before the Burial — To M. H. B. . . .217 

In Memoriam — M. H. B. . . . . .219 

To Hilda . . . . . . . . 220 

The Leader — E. B. M 221 

To Dellie for her Album . . . . 222 

To Henry R. Jones, Esq. : with a Candlestick . 223 

To H. R. Jones, Esq're: with a New England 

Primer ....... 224 

Ichabod. L'Envoi. ToA. J. C 225 

To M. G. L. . . . . . . . 227 

The Living Christ. To M. L. B. . . .229 

To M. G. L 231 

The Christening. To Charlotte . . . 232 

To Elsie ........ 233 

To Charlotte on her Fourth Birthday . . 235 

To "Brownie". ...... ^36 

My Charlotte . . . . . . . 237 

Daisy and Buttercup ..... 238 

To Charlotte . . . . ... 240 

Elsie's Party: Welcome . . . . .241 

Elsie's Party: Finale . . . . . 242 

To Charlotte . . . . . . 243 

What Would You Do? . . . . . 244 

To Charlotte: with a Copy of "Pilgrim's 

Progress" . . . . . . 245 

To Elsie : A Valentine . . . . • 246 



XIV 



CONTENTS 



To Charlotte: with a Box of Marshmallows 

To "Brownie" . . . . \ 

The Japanese Fan. To "Brownie" . 

To Charlotte . 

To Charlotte . 

Easter. To Elsie 

To Charlotte: Eighteen 

Easter. To "Brownie" 

To Charlotte in Europe 

Easter. To Elsie and "Brownie' 

To Charlotte : at the Time of the Canonization 
OF Joan of Arc . 

To Elsie: with a Copy of William Morris 
Poems. ...... 

To "Brownie": with a Bunch of Violets 

"Dinna Forget": to Charlotte with a Copy of 
"Gems of Scottish Song" . 

To Elsie: A Sonnet .... 

To Charlotte : with a Ring 

To Charlotte . . . . 

To Charlotte: with a "Book of Verses" 

To Elsie: with A Sofa Pillow . 

To Charlotte, with a Copy of Collected Poems 
BY Austin Dobson 

To Charlotte: with a Copy of the Victorian 
Anthology 

When Charlotte Plays 



PAGE 

247 
248 
249 

251 
252 

253 
254 
255 
256 

257 

258 

259 

260 

261 
262 

263 
264 
265 
266 

267 

268 
269 



CONTENTS XV 

PAGE 

R. L. S. Once IVIore. To Louise . . . 270 
A Birthday Prayer FOR Charlotte . . .271 
To Charlotte . . . . . . .273 

Charlotte at the Piano . . . . .274 

To Louise 275 

In Town. To Charlotte .... 276 

Motherhood. To H. W. R. L. . . . . 277 

Night and Morning. To Robin . . . 278 
Spencer . . . . . . . . 280 

Good-Morning. To Harry . . . .281 

Good-Night. To Harry . . . . . 282 

To Malcolm ...... 283 

Easter, 1902. To Bessie .... 284 

To Elsie 285 

To Little Elsie : A Cradle Song . . . 286 
"Now I Lay Me" (Revised). To Little Elsie . 287 
The Party. To Little Elsie . . . . 288 

The Baby's Curl. To Little Elsie . . . 289 
Elsie Blake King ...... 290 



ALL SAINTS' DAY 
Music by Gounod: The Radiant Morn. 

OUR saints who sometime with us trod. 
The earthly way our feet still roam, 
Have found their perfect rest in God, 
In Him their home. 

Their joy we never may attain 

Nor, white-robed, look upon God's face 

Till up the beetling hills of pain 
Their way we trace. 

Lord, Christ, the Cross of Calvary 

Marked for our saints the journey's lengtli 

We follow where they followed Thee 
Be Thou our strength. 



1^ 



THE HOUSE 

WHAT does he view, the passer-by? 
By every human sign 
A goodly habitation, but 
I see a shrine. 

He marks what may be bartered, sold, 
Or changed, as are men's wares— 

I see a tabernacle and 
God's altar stairs. 

With angels going up and down. 

The loved and unforgot, 
The dwelling, like the Patriarch's stone, 

But marks the spot. 

He notes the fragrant, grassy space, 
A bright and heartsome sight — 

I see a field whereon was fought 
A mortal fight. 

The goings out and comings in 

Are seen of passers-by — 
The doors close on the conflict, and 

The tragedy. 



THE HOUSE 

The inmates, like a rosary 

Held by the slender thread 
Of lineage — what vows they have vowed 

What prayers have said ! 

Hearken, dear God, unite them in 

Thy fair and far-off lands 
Forevermore in Love's Wide House 

Not made with hands. 



HOME THOUGHTS 

THE fire glows upon the hearth to-night 
At my old home, 
But on new faces shines its radiant light 
While far I roam. 

I may not envy them that spot so fair, 

I seek my own ; 
The names of those who once were gathered there 

Are graved on stone. 

Could I but lay me down to-night and pray 

That sleep might come, 
From which, when angels roll the stone away, 

We wake at Home ! 



OUT OF THE DEPTHS 

W. E.L. 

WITH empty hands lifted in empty air, 
Mother of Consolation, hear my prayer ; 
For since 'tis said, '*it has pleased God to give, 
And then to take away, '' 
To Him I cannot pray 
And hold belief that such is my belief. 
Mother of Christ, to thee 
Alone I make my plea : 

Oh, dear and sacred heart, but yestereven, 
As paled the west, there went one into heaven 
Whom God had hurt beyond the mete of men. 
Let him, I pray, sink down before thee, then 
Lay hot and throbbing head upon thy knee, 
And take thy hand, — for so he used with me, 
Placing it on his forehead, where the pain 

burnt through, 
Oh, stroke his dear hair, Mother of all woe. 
How can I ever doubt 
Thou knowest to smooth the furrows out 
One after one, plowed there. 
By anguish of despair ! 

5 



OUT OF THE DEPTHS 

What need, what need has he 

Of Him who was, is, and shall ever be 

Clothed in the praises of eternity? 

Upon a sapphire throne 

Sun, moon, and stars His own — 

The rather he has need only of thee, 

Mother of Peace. If such a thing might be, 

Soft in thy garment's hem 

Fold him and let him sleep 

The sleep God gives to them 

He calls His own beloved, 

Holy, serene, and deep. 

There may he rest unmoved 

Till One shall seek him out 

And cry to him, ''Come forth" — the same 

that bade 
Lazarus arise, — and take him by the hand — 
Immortal moment ! he will understand. 

No more in mad 

And blinding doubt, 
Mother of Christ, with tear-cleansed eyes, may I, 
Like Mary and like Martha, stand near by. 



TO ONE IN HEAVEN 

DOES it seem long to you, in heaven 
Until I come, 
'Til seven years ? 
To me 'tis seventy times seven 
At our old home 
Counted in tears. 



SERENADE 

OH ! softly, softly evening breeze, • |l 

While stars their watch are keeping ; 
Breathe softly through the swaying trees, 
My lady dear is sleeping. 

Oh tenderly, sweet nightingale, 

While Love's own moon is beaming, 
Breathe tenderly thy plaintive wail. 

My lady dear is dreaming. 

All gentle things keep watch with me. 

Till golden morn is breaking, 
For day on land, and sky and sea. 

Comes with my lady's waking. 



EASTER 

YE would see Jesus? Nay, fond hearts, not 
here, 
If it be true ye seek a Hving Christ — 
So spake the radiant presence at the Tomb— 
Ye must go otherwhere to keep your tryst. 

Not here, but on the long and weary road 
Where there are wounds to bind or woes to 
share. 

And ye shall feel your hearts within your burn 
For ye shall find the living Jesus there. 



ANGEL OF SILENCE 

ANGEL of Silence ! lay thy finger wSoft 
Athwart my woman's lips, that I may 

stand 
Steadfastly mute, tho' I must see full oft, 
On summer nights, go wandering hand in hand 
Brave men and maidens sweet, in love's first 

heaven; 
I hear dear children shout from morn till even, 
Loud boys and timid little girls at pla}^ 
Whom other women bore, while my arms ache 
For emptiness, and hunger gnaws my heart. 
Poor useless thing, which yet will never break, 
As I look on at Life and take no part — 
Steadfastly silent, while for me, O Lord, 
O'er Eden's gate there hangs the flaming sword! 



lO 



DAFFODILS 

IN all the dells, on all the hills, 
They come, they come, the Daffodils; 
Flinging their banners in the air, 
A burst of glory everywhere. 

Soft as the shadows in a dream, 

Their forms, are mirrored in the stream, * 

Upon whose quiet banks I lie 

Alone, the Daffodils and I. 

Dear Flowers by Poet loved and sung. 
When England's Muse was fresh and young. 
Ere she had drunken to the lees, 
Or learned to toy with mysteries, 

He thought no shame of Thee to learn. 
Ah ! blessed he who can discern 
Truth, though it thrill but for an hour 
The golden heart of a little flower. 



II 



I 



PARAPHRASE OF THE NINETIETH 
PSALM 

CREATOR of all time and space, 
Maker and Lord of man, 
Lo, Thou hast been our dwelling-place 
Since time and space began. 

Or ever Thou hadvSt formed the earth, 
Or curbed the wayward sea. 

Before the morning stars had birth, 
Thou wert eternally. 

The countless ages in Thy sight 

As snowflakes melt away, 
Or as the watches of the night, 

Fly at the break of day. 

And how regardest Thou man's years? 

Eternal God and Lord, 
But as a tale that's writ in tears, 

And ceases at Thy word. 

Yet deep in human hearts doth lurk 

The hope Thou wilt see fit 
To 'stablish Thy frail creature's work. 

Yea, Lord, establish it. 

12 



THE NINETIETH PSALM 

That we through all eternity, 

As in the mortal past, 
May find our toil and wage in Thee, 

In Thee, our rest at last. 



13 



IN AUTUMN 

THE royal grape is on the vine, 
The trees are flaming red, 
The year is ripe with corn and wine, 
'Tis time that we were wed. 

Together we have watched the showers, 

Fall on the hopes of spring, 
Together seen those hopes turned flowers- 

What shall the autumn bring ? 

Fruition on each bough and limb, 

Faith realized, fear fled. 
The year's wine frothing at the brim, 

'Tis time that we were wed. 

'Tis time, 'tis time, my own, I yearn 

To call thee mine, all mine, 
Oh, Son of Mary, for us turn 

Life's waters into wine. 



14 



A CHRISTMAS LETTER 

IT is the time of glad goodwill 
That marks love's humble holy birth 
When all the world grown strangely still 
Lists to the song of peace on earth. 

No fitter time, O tried and true 
No fitter, sweeter time than this 

For me to give my ''yes*' to you 
And seal it with Love's very kiss. 



15 



SWEETNESS AND LIGHT 

THE race not always to the swift 
Nor victory to the strong ? 
Then why the goal before us lift? 
Why raise the battle song ? 

If feet that wait not by the way, 

If hearts that fight the wrong, 
Must fall behind, must lose the day, 

Why then be swift or strong ? 

Take heed ! the mightiest man of old 

Was blinded and made weak. 
That so to caviling hearts and bold 

He might with knowledge speak. 

Sweetness is better far than strength — 
Light doeth more than speed — 

All failing, sweetness comes at length , 
Light unto God doth lead. 

Out of the strong let sweetness flow, 

Out of the blinded, Light, — 
Live thou these words and thou shalt know 

Manoah's son was right. 

i6 



SWEETNESS AND LIGHT 

Who Light and Sweetness on his way, 

Gives PhiHstine and friend, 
Finds strength and swiftness for his day 

And God's goal at the end. 



17 



f 



THE ROAD TO EMMAUS 

WHERE have they laid Him? 
Nay, He is not dead, 
Behold Him where He walketh with HivS own, 
Oh, loving, lo3^al hearts be comforted 
Forevermore has rolled away the stone ! 

Abide with us, abide with us, oh Lord, 
Deep in our hearts abide Thou living Word, 
Thou didst put on our frail humanit}^ 
So may we wear Thine immortality. 



i8 



I 



MY CREED 

I DO not know how other women love, 
I only know that when I wake each day 
And lift my heart to the great Heart above, 
It is for thee — for thee alone — I pray. 

How other women love, I cannot know, 
I only feel if joy from thee has fled, 

'Tis midnight, tho' a thousand suns should glow; 
If thine — 'tis noonday, tho' all suns were dead. 

How other women love is not my ken , 
I only know death has no fears for me, 

Alone one moment in the dark, and then — 
We two, with God, in His eternity. 



19 




''WHOM WILL YE THAT I RELEASE 
UNTO YOU?" 

AH, had the mob but *' Jesus" cried, 
He had not then been crucified, 
And we through teachings manifold 
Had rightly learned how to grow old. 



20 



LOVE AND CONSCIENCE 

WHO would not rather live the mad moth's 
life 
One glowing kiss, then in the living flame, 
Consumed of his desire, crowned with his aim, 
Die, glorified, while happiness was life, 

Than when through endless time, ensphered far. 
far 
Above all human joys and loves and fears, 
Passions, desires, longings and warm tears, 

True to its destiny — a midnight star ! 

But Conscience then, — back in a weary land, 
How godlike, 'tis the needle to the north. 
Ocean to moon — and yet I'd be the moth — 

The God who made me He can understand. 



21 



"YE DID IT UNTO ME" 

ONE stood where earth and heaven meet 
And heard the voice of Love: — ''My son 
With the great gift of Hf e I gave 

Freely to thee, what hast thou done?" 

He, answering: ''Lord, I held the creed - 

In every clause inviolate, 
And I was eloquent in prayer 

And edifying in debate." 

Then Love: "When I was lone and sick, 
Shorn and unsheltered among men. 

Lone and in prison languishing 

Make known, what didst thou for me then?" 

"When Thou didst lie in prison, Lord, 

At hirst and hungering, alas, 
One held Thou wert of mortal birth 

And vowed Thy follower he was. 

"But when he taught that in the flesh 

The dead shall never rise again 
I scourged him from Th}^ Temple pure, 

And strove to seal his lips profane." 

22 



''YE DID IT UNTO ME" 

**My son! 'Twas he who visited 
My prison, bringing oil and wine; 

Ere his own wounds were closed he came 
And laid a healing touch on mine." 

''Dear Lord": — he bowed him to the earth 
And hid his face in contrite shame, 

Then heard once more the still, small voice- 
''Arise, go thou and do the vSame." 



23 



HOME 

WHEN Mary shall have learned the art 
Of making love and service one, 
And Martha learned the better part 
That lies in some things left undone, 
Then not as Guest, shall Jesus come 
But with us shall abide — at Home. 



24 



CREEDS 

WHICH is the healing plant 
And which the noxious leaf? 
Why question, from the accursed tree 
Heaven hails a Christ — and Thief! 



25 



FAILURE 

TAKE my defeat, O Lord, for offering: 
'Tis all I have to bring; 
But in thy name, and not my own, I wrou]:;bt 
Can it have been for naught ? 



26 



m 



USE AND WONT 

"The cloak that I left at Troas with Carpus, 
when thou comest, bring with thee, and the 
books, but especially the parchments." 

2 Timothy iv., 13. 

THE books, the parchments, and the 
cloak":— 
Illustrious Boy on whom did fall, 
If only while the morning broke. 
The mantle of the Apostle Paul. 

The books — but more especially 
I would I might have borne to him 

The parchments for his eyes to see 

Ere time and tears had made them dim. 

Oh, the divinity — Heaven's seal — 
In human things, though unto them 

We may not bow ourselves, nor kneel. 
Yet do they fringe His garment's hem. 

Nay, He who conquered Death for all 

His immortality unveils 
Through no supernal miracle, 

But by the stigma of the nails. 
■ 27 



USE AND WONT 

All things are human, all divine, 

The earth is His, and sea, — 
Lord, through Thy gifts of Bread and Wine 

Do we remember Thee. 



38 



GOD'S FOOL 

THE King turned from the men of state, 
And to his Fool said he, — 
"If thou wert Arbiter of Fate, 

Whose should the Victory be?'' 
"The 'Victory?' Nay, there is but one, 
One only, other there is none, — 
Gained once on Calvary, 
And by a Thief, mark ye!" 
The erstwhile Jester said, 
And meek obeisance made : 

"Thou Fool!" the King cried. "Have a 

care ! 
Of such blaspheming words beware!" 



29 



M 



THE REFORMER 

OCKED as a runner, furthest from the 
goal, 

« Foiled, but pursuing, as the sea the moon, 
Trembling, but true as needle to the pole, 

Treading the winepress in the glare of noon, 
To cry in agony, at last, ''I thirst!" 
Behold the Man! Follow him if thou durst, 
And men shall plait for thee of thorns a crown. 
Yet follow — and the future is thine own. 



f 



30 



BELIEF 

THOU earnest to a world of stress and tears 
To bring, Lord Christ, glad tidings of 

relief; 
But our chief gain in these two thousand years — 
Forgive our unbelief — is this belief. 



31 



« 

I 



BY THE SEA 

ART Thou, O God in that far space, 
Where sky and ocean seem to meet, 
Where a poor wear}^ conquered world. 
Falls sobbing at high heaven's feet? 

Thy way is in the deep, and yet. 

Thou lea vest there no trace whereby, 
The o'ertasked souls of men, may find 

The path, whose ending is the sky! 

Great God! 'tis not for us to say. 

Which way our Hfe's frail bark shall tend, 

We move by faith and not by sight, 
And Thou indeed art at the end. 

Where'er it be, there is the port, II 

Where all must enter at the last, 
Where all must furl the tattered sail, 

And make the time-worn anchor fast. 

I venture on the Sea of Thought, 

Unless Thy strong arm stretches out, 
To save as once on Galilee, 

I sink in unbelief and doubt. 

32 



PANDORA 

KNOW ye the story of dainty Pandora ? 
And Epimetheus, her spouse and the 
Box, 
How he protests not, so does he adore her, 
While she the fatal hasp madly unlocks. 

Lovely to look at and happily wedded 

One would have thought that her cup was 
quite full 

Nay, needle-eye shall with camel be threaded 
Ere the desire of woman shall lull. 

Eve's curiosity ruined her progeny, 
Sheer curiosity wrought the despair 

Of Epimetheus, and by misogyny. 

Made him henceforward to fervently swear. 

"Open the Box, " cried the naughty Pandora, 
"Nay, nay," said her husband, "that may I 
not do," 
"Infirm of purpose, then I will" — deplore her 
Rash act, O ye mortals, for therefrom there 
flew 
3 33 



PANDORA 

Horrors ! Each evil that poor flesh is heir to, 
Dismay and disaster were given full scope, 

But — acme of irony — how could they bear to — 
The gods let the woman shut down upon Hope ! 

Better for us had it out with the others, 

Forth from the casket incontinent flown — 
For undisappointed, at least, O, my brothers 
' Were we, had we never Hope's flattery known. 



34 



_ 



A LITTLE GRAVE 

WHERE think you I beheld her last, 
Dear "Bouncing Bet?" 
Beside the green grave of a child 
All dewy wet. 

The little children's jocund flower 

Who placed her there 
Forever to keep watch and ward 

In white robes, where 

Sunbeams slant downward through the trees 

And soft rains drip, 
Dear ''Bouncing Bef grown strangely still, 

Finger on lip ! 



35 



JESSIE LEIGH OF PERTH 



A grandmother's story 



{True) 

A FAIRER or a nobler lass 
Of high or humble birth 
Ne'er drew the breath of life, my bairns, 
Than Jessie Leigh of Perth. 

"Aunt Jess," whom only yestermorn 

Beneath the rowan tree, 
We laid to rest in her last sleep 

I would it had been me. 

But I must tell you e'er I die, 

Lest from another tongue. 
You hear the story of her life 
• In words that might be wrong. 

For we were aye a silent folk 

(Least said the less to rue) 
Telling the truth, nought but the truth. 

But never all we knew. 
36 



i 



Ji, 



JESSIE LEIGH OF PERTH 

Well then — before the days of steam, 
There sailed from Glasgow town, 

One summer eve, a goodly ship, 
Just as the sun went down. 

When that same sun rose up, next morn, 

Her rough but kindly crew 
Heard from a hidden coil of rope 

What seemed a kitten's *'miew, " 

And there they found a little lass 

Fast in the grip of fear — 
''God bless my soul, " the Captain said, 

''What are you doing here?" 

''I want my Granny, please," she said, 
** And Granny dear, wants me, " 

''But what's your Granny's name and yours? 
"I'm Jess and 'Granny,' she." 

The Captain was a Yankee man 

In goodness richly sown ; 
He made the ship the lassie's home 

And loved her as his own. 

But all the time they sailed the sea, 
Nought could he learn nor guess 

From that wee lassie's artless talk. 
But just the fact, "I'm Jess," 
37 



JESSIE LEIGH OF PERTH 

Excepting for one other, that 
Her ''Mother Uved in Heaven, " 

But where her father Uved, she knew 
Nought, nor his name even. 

The Captain on his backward voyage, 

Took the poor child along, 
But never found the lassie's folk 

Though hard he wrought and long. 

Then to the high authorities, 

Of ancient Glasgow town. 
He vowed: ''I'll take her back with me 

And keep her like my own." 

That did he, giving Jessie to 

His sister never wed, 
Who took her to her empty arms, 

Loved her and clothed and fed. 

Her home was in a college town, 

Whither the Captain's son 
Went all his schoolboy holidays 

And to the college on. 

Oh, but it was a blithesome sight 

As one would ask to see, 
That lover and his Perthshire lass, 

Under the great elm tree. 

38 



i r 



JESSIE LEIGH OF PERTH 

But e'er the time for them to wed 
There came from far-off Perth, 

A lawyer sent to take our Jess 
Back to her place of birth. 

He told how after weary search, 

Her father died of grief. 
And how there died in Glasgow town 

The base, kidnapping thief. 

But 'twas not all remorse, my bairns. 

Made her mother's folk agree 
To find the little stowaway 

For there was property. 

They formed a compact, 'twixt themselves, 
By the shrewd terms of which . 

They'd wed her to her cousin, Keith, 
Who'd thereby be made rich. 

Oh, bairns, beware of greed of gold. 

It shrivels up the soul ; 
It sends a man a darksome road 

And his best parts pay toll ! 

The lawyer tracked Jess to her home 

Of piety and worth, 
And told her all the gold and lands 

That waited her at Perth. 

39 



JESSIE LEIGH OF PERTH 

Her foster mother's heart stood still 

Unused to such alarms; 
She rose and tottered and then fell 

Into her darling's arms. 

**Nay, never heed his words, " cried Jess, 

**Who is he to remind me, 
Of Glasgow, sir, please understand 

Fve burnt my ships behind me, " 

*'But if you'll come to-morrow morn, 

ril have my pastor here, 
And he will speak my mind for me 

Quite plainly, never fear/' 

Oh, God be praised for such as she; 

They live in every land 
Where He is loved, their Shepherd He 

Still feeds them from His hand. 

The gallant lass got word to him 

In yonder college hall ; 
With her dear hand held fast in his 

She trembhng told him all. 

Then laughed as any little brook. 
As silvery and as sweet, 

And swift made clear her morning's plan- 
How he and she should meet, 

40 



I; 



JESSIE LEIGH OF PERTH 

In presence of his kinswoman, 

And the unrighteous Scot, 
While her beloved minister 

Should tie the sacred knot. 

*' And where 3^ou go, " she cried, '' I go, " 

(She knew her Bible fine) 
''Your people shall my people be, 

Your country shall be mine ! ' ' 

Next morn the holy man was there 

And all was as she said, 
The foster mother and the Scot — 

And there they two were wed 1 



My half-brother her father was, 
Dear bairns, she was a Leigh, 

And oh, but they know how to love, 
Whate'er their fortune be. 

And when you've joined a Yankee man 

With a lassie out of Perth, 
Thefe's not a nobler union 

Mind you, upon the earth. 



41 



THE CHRYSANTHEMUM 

THE trees are leafless and the air is dumb, 
The skies are leaden and the grass is gray, 
And bleak November holds its deadening sway 
O'er all save thee, thou brave Chrysanthemum. 

When not for me the summer's ripening breath, 
Gladdens to joy each fiber of the heart. 

Nor evermore sharp winter's angry smart. 
Goads the mad soul to face or life or death — 

Ah, when Monotony my soul doth numb, 
And dullness marks each uneventful day 

When I have heart to neither work nor pray, 
Teach me I still may grow, Chrysanthemum. 



42 



RESIGNATION 

OGOD, 'tis Thine alone to give 
'Tis Thine alone to take, 
'Tis Thine to grant the vSpirit that 
Bears all things for Thy sake. 

Nor know we ever what is great, 
Nor know we what is small. 

But we shall learn, if we but wait, 
That Thou art All in All. 



43 



THE SISTERS 

THUS Mary unto Martha: ''Sister mine, 
It sometimes seemeth me that all shall 
dwell, 
In everlastingness. Can any tell?" 

''Ah no, refine 
Men may the gold, earth of the very earth 
Even as we, until a kingly crown 
It shines forevermore, but at each birth 
Corruption doth its hateful seed implant, 
And at the last, when shuddering flesh lays 

down 
The galling load, it doth its triumphs vaunt — 
Lord God ! the dead that doth a day but lie 
Who would for such ask immortality!** 

"I speak not of the flesh as without end. 
My thought thou dost not rightly comprehend. 
Nor hardly can I seem to make it heard 
Unto myself, but a dear patience lend 
To my still musings, and the spoken word 
Shall give them to the winds if they be chaff,— 

44 



jj 



THE SISTERS 

What is it can revive the banished years, 
That hves to-day in all that went before? 
Cringing anew at recollected fears, 
And harking back to joys that are no more, 
That hears again a brother's childish laugh 
And brook's voice, as they babbled each to 

each? 
What is this endlessness, can any teach?" 

*' 'Tis Memory, dear one, 

Seek not out the things 

Too high for thee. 

Nor give thy vain thought wings." 

"Yet life is shaped by hope and memory, 
The thing that has been makes the thing to be. 
Bethink thee, Martha, how the grape is bruised 
Down trodden in the press by him who flings 
Unto pollution what he will, but loosed 
From out the fruit, behold a shape 
Poised at the brim ! And yet the cup doth hold 
Not that which is but that which was the 

grape— 
That is my meaning told : 
May Death not crush and bruise 
That only to set loose 
Which makes of Martha, thee, 
And Mary makes of me, 
Dost comprehend 
My thoughts' far end?" 

45 



THE SISTERS 

''I comprehend, 
That if thou speakest truth, 
There is no room for ruth, 
Thy dream doth make it plain, 
All should then live again ! 
A malefactor on the cross 
His being spent and cursed, might toss 
Into the wine-press (which in parable) 
Thou likest unto death. It is not well 
To see but visions, and to live in dreams, 
To trim the starry lamps we are not bid. 
Nor are we set to gild the morning beams, 
The holy things of God are ever hid — " 

'' Yet to the meek are mysteries revealed 

That to the wise and prudent still are sealed. 

What if turn given me, 

My being's Self to see 

When death has brought my being to an end, 

Communing with an ever-living Friend, 

E'en Love who with us sometimes comes to sup 

That were indeed the wine within the cup! 

And yet I cannot fathom deep my mind 

Nor learn what is this Self in me I find. 

Oh, if thou knowest, Martha, tell it me 

For dreamer of dreams I am: — " 

''Yea, verily, 
But I am of the da}^ 
And love all near familiar things, 

46 



k 



THE SISTERS 

E'en the recurring disarray 

One duty to another brings, 

And while God gives the needful grain, 

'Tis we must make the bread men eat. 

To smooth rough places plain 

For aching feet 

Is woman's task, 

Nor may I ask 

Aught else of God the Lord 

Than this, to spread the couch and lay the 

board 
I know not of the worlds that lie 
Beyond the blueness of the sky 
Nor am I quelled to suppliant awe 
Save by the Tablets of the Law 
Whereon I learn God steadies with the smart 
Of the compelling duty, woman's heart." 

''Beloved, bear with me. 
Is there not that in thee 
Which thou canst never name ? 
That values its own praise or blame, 
And can behold itself, yet peer 
Beyond the verge of things, a seer? 
I know not why, but ever in my ears 
I hear the murmur of unending years 
Like an immortal sea on mortal shore, 
Where tides of being rise forevermore 
Above and yet above, 

47 



THE SISTERS 

Drawn by the Orb of Love 

In luminous access. 

So may we live in everlastingness, 

If else, would I had died e'er He came by, 

Nay! Having seen Him who can ever die! *' 

These were the Sisters twain 
Of Lazarus, whom Jesus loved 
And raised up from the dead again. 



aS 



f| 



i 



RECOMPENSE 

WHAT is the guerdon of patience? " 
I ask the tranquil sky ; 
And the steadfast stars make answer, 
"More patience by and by." 



49 



A MOOD 

AH God, to hunger where there is no food, 
To thirst where never water may be found. 
To yearn for harmony where is no sound, 
To know but ill and yet to crave the good. 
Doing the wrong, and not the thing I would. 
To see Sin triumph. Right brought to the ground 
Lies going up and down the earth, Truth bound, 
This, this it is that makes my present niood : 

Dear God, to waken thus from Youth's sweet 

dream 
I could not know, and none foretold my fate! 
To live to see Truth's robe without a seam 
Parted and torn by Sham and Cant and Hate ! 
If growing old be finding nothing true 
I would that I had died when life was new. 



50 



THE SCAPEGOAT 

ALIEN from God and man, 
Neath every creature's ban, 
Nay, tell me now 
What meanest Thou ' 
Men gave Thee to the Lord to bless, 
Then drove Thee to the Wilderness,- 
Laden with sin 
His grace to win. 
Into the desert vast, 
And shelterless and waste. 
With never a stark Tree 
Set on a Calvary — 
Alas, what boots it Thou shouldst be 
Hallowed for such a destiny. 

The Voice of one deep in the wild 

Yet with no cry 
To freely give Thy life for men. 
Yet not to die ! — 
And may the life begun in prayer 
End in perdition of despair. 
Or that which God blessed at the first 
Be by the world's offenses cursed? 
My Soul, heed thee! 
51 



THE SCAPEGOAT 



Why dost thou rage 

And beat the air, — 

Serve thou thine age 

Accept thy lot, 

Thou canst not be 

Where He is not. 

On, onward fare — 
God in the Wilderness alway 
Is fire by night and cloud by day, 
The House of Bondage is His own. 
And in the contrite heart, His Throne, 



PARAPHRASE OF THE ONE HUNDRED 
AND THIRTIETH PSALM 

IF Thou be author, Lord, 
Of my adversity, 
Out of the depths I Hft my voice, 

In bhnding fear to Thee. 
E'en as a woman's heart 

Is tuned her child to hear 
Above the storm. Oh, patient God, 
To me incHne Thine ear. 

With Thee forgiveness is, 

Yet there is none may know 
Why Thou shouldst cast Thy servant down 

And let the scoffer go. 

Nay, wait my soul on God, 

Thy hope shall not be vain , 
Wait thou, as one who vigil keeps 

Beside the bed of pain. 

Still, stijl let Israel trust 

Though eyes be made to weep, 
The Love that watches over us, 

Slumbereth not nor sleeps. 

53 



THE 130TH PSALM 

Out of the depths I call, 
Love will attend my crjs 

For close upon the vale of woe, 
The hills of God do he. 



54 



1 



THE BURIAL 

LORD Christ in heaven, look down and mark 
This httle grave new-made, 
The broken hearts low bending here 
Anguished and sore divSmayed. 

That looking up they may behold 

In the black clouds that span 
The sky above their heads, a form 

Like to the Son of Man. 

Lift Thou their eyes Compassionate 

From falling clod on clod. 
Thou art the Resurrection 

And the Life, Thou Son of God. 

But dust to dust and earth to earth, 

We cannot choose but see. 
Since Life to Life, O, risen Christ 

Is hid in God, with Thee — 

Nay, death must be, if we would rise 

Beyond all mortal ken, 
Into Thine Everlastingness, 

Soul of our souls — Amen. 

55 



BEREFT 

THE spring has come again, dear Heart 
Dear Heart, the spring has come! 
He does not stir, though echoes start, 
To hear the news from home. 

The hving tide, not born of seas, 

The mystic tide of sap, 
Is at the full in all the trees, 

And daisies climb earth's lap. 

What boots it, since he does not know ' 

The clod lies heavily 
Upon his pulseless heart; and, oh, 

There is no spring for me ! 



56 



Ji 



THEN AND NOW 

O HAPPY radiant hours when we were young, 
When every passing day, bright and more 

bright, 
A gem upon hfe's slender thread was strung. 
That flashed resplendent in the morning light. 

Our days, now we are old, are dim dull beads, 
Seen through our tears and in the waning sun, 

Making a rosary for evening's needs, 

Whereon we'll tell our prayers till life be done. 



57 



THE DAUGHTER OF THE MAYFLOWER 

HER name, if "Mindwell" or "Submit," 
Was far less farcical than fit ; 
For, mark you, she lived up to it, 

And that sublimely. 
To serve her spouse, her only art. 
He to her tombstone would impart 
Praises, that might have warmed her heart, 
Had they been timely. 

She lay down late and early rose; 
Her manners had not that repose 
Blue blood confers, one must suppose. 

Yet own her merit. 
At sweet saints rapturous in a niche, 
She'd rail and turn her nose up, which 
Fixed there, mayhap, the vocal pitch 
Her sons inherit. 



Through pioneer vicissitude 
She scrimped and scraped and baked and brewed 
With unremitting fortitude, 
That shames the sages. 

58 



DAUGHTER OF THE MAYFLOWER 

Scripture she read, and almanac, 
With nought beside, unless, alack, 
And as it were, behind her back, 
''Hudibras'" pages. 

But all things come to those who wait. 
Such an arch satirist is fate 
Aiming its arrows, soon or late . 

No marksman bolder 
The Puritanic dame, ah me ! 
Surviving in her progeny 
As flower of our plutocracy 

To-day behold her ! 



59 



THE FIREFLY 

WHAT art thou, gleam of light 
That evening brings, 
Art insect, soul, or sprite, 
On lucid wings ? 

Art thou a beacon clear 

Lighting the poles 
Of atoms struggling near 

While matter rolls ! 

Art thou a shaft of fire 

Burning to guide 
Fugitives from the ire 

Of force defied ? 

Thou hast no need of sun 

Nor moon's sheer light 
Thou self -illumined one 

Una wed of night. 

Thou art a nether star 

Thy firmament 
Earth, vet it cannot mar 

Thy sweet content, 
60 




THE FIREFLY 

Art like a Poet strong 

Soothing the night 
With sweetest, grandest song 

Whose theme is — Light ! 

Teach me thy radiant art, 

I too would sing. 
Out of a glowing heart 

My song would bring. 

And would in times of blight, 

Darkness and din, 
Be led by living light 

Fed from within. 



6l 



A QUESTION: PACKER '69 
Music : Laufiger Hor alius 

TIS a point I long to know, 
Oft it causes anxious thought, 
Shall I graduate or no? 

Shall I get through or shall I not? 
Happy me, O happy me 

If in June next I'm set free; 
Happy me, O happy me 

If in June next I'm set free. 

Butler fills my soul with dread, 

Havens, Perkins, Draper, too, 
Ye of mighty intellect, 

Tell me was it so with you ? 
Happy me, O happy me 

If in June next I'm set free, 
Happy me, O happy me 

If in June next I'm set free. 

May I but a sheepskin grasp, 

Weak and trembling though I am. 

May the wind be tempered to 
Every shorn and sorry lamb ! 
62 



A QUEvSTION: PACKER ^69 

Happy me, O happy me 
If in June next I'm set free, 

Happy me, O happy me 

If in June next I'm set free. 



63 



SALUTATORY 

THE spring's bright days have come and gone 
And summer flowers are springing 
Beneath our feet and summer birds 
Their sweetest songs are singing. 

Once more as in times past, we take 

Our old accustomed places 
Before the same kind audience, 

The same familiar faces. 

Welcome, thrice welcome to you all, 
To you our friends and neighbors, 

Whose blessings and whose wishes kind 
Have lightened all our labors. 

And to our teachers tried and true 

Our grateful hearts shall ever 
Cherish their lessons, and our love 

Nor time nor death shall sever. 



64 



J 



FAREWELL 

ONE more glad year has sunk to rest 
And now round Alma Mater rises 
Another class to call her blest 
And at her feet to lay her prizes. 

Are we all here? Yes, all are here, — 
Because one's gone we're not divided. 

'Trocul Adeste" she is near. 
Is with us by the angels guided. 

Back from the old world to the new, 

From new scenes back to old hearts dearer. 

Thank God what Science cannot do 

Love can, it need but say ''come nearer." 

So now, an undivided band. 

We'll sing our happy school dsivs over, 
And here this hour as with one hand 

Write down "The End" and close the cover. 

Farewell — and farewell to that band 
Who on dear old Packer's good intent 

Have joined in mind and heart and hand 
And farewell to our President. 

And let us thank him for the lesson taught 

Only the useful life's with pleasure fraught. 
^ s 65 



FAREWELL 

Farewell to him who for so long 

Has at the helm stood steadfast, ready 
Guiding with skillful hand and strong 

Each new class' bark howe'er unsteady. 

To all our guides we'll farewell say, 

Theirs is the blessing rich that hovers 
O'er them that first have trod the way 

Then turned to show it unto others. 

We're poor in words, have naught to give 
But love to you, — are words love's token? 

Vain empty words ? — may we all live 
To prove what here cannot be spoken. 

You who as Seniors soon shall stand — 

There, don't shrink back, we won't address ii 

you — 
No, no dear 'Seventy, ' give your hand, 

We'll only say — good-bye, God bless you. 

Such love as ours, old Sixty-nine, 

Can land or ocean broad dissever? 
Is ours the friendship, yours and mine. 

That must walk hand in hand forever? 

But then for the love in the eyes — 

The voice — no we cannot dissemble 
The grief that in our hearts will rise. 

The tears that neath our lids will tremble. 

66 



FAREWELL 

But we are selfish, weak and fond, 
We onlv think of our to-morrow; 

Forgetting all that lies beyond 

These partings in this world of sorrow. 

We thank Thee, Lord, for these blest days 
That tell old Sixty-nine's life story — 

Amen, Amen, Thine be the praise 
As Thine the Power and the Glory. 



67 



THE vSEVENTIES 

OH, life was sweet in the Seventies, 
Were ever such peerless girls, 
Were ever dissolved in the cup of joy, 
Before or since, such pearls! 

Oh, the ideals and the day-dreams, 

Were lofty as rainbows are 
In the hearts of those whose nursery-rhymes 

Had been the songs of "The War." 

Life was greatest in the Seventies; — 

Ah no, 'tis as great to-day. 
Youth, youth is the pearl in life's chalice 

Be the decade what it may. 



68 



GOLDEN JUBILEE SONG: MAY 15, 1903 
Tunes: The Son of God — Dundee. 

ALMA MATER 

THY daughters of the yester-year, 
Thy daughters of to-day, 
We come, we come, O Mater dear, 

Our homage meet to pay. 
Though we may wander far and wide, — • 

Love knows nor here nor there, — 
Wherever borne by time and tide 
Thy name and seal we bear. 

The brilHance of the morning born 

May to the cloud give place; 
Thy laurel for an hour worn 

May fade and leave no trace. 
But thou, O Mater, dost impart 

An immemorial gleam : 
Thy palm is for the true of heart 

Unto the heavenly dream. 

We bring the homage of our love. 

And all our loyalty; 
We lift one hallowed prayer above, 

Learned at thy parent-knee : 
69 



GOLDEN JUBILEE SONG 

''O God, our help in ages past, 
Our hope for years to come. 

Be thou our guide while life shall last. 
And our eternal home.'' Amen. 



I i 



70 



SONG, 1873 

1 WANDER alone in the gloaming, 
Where we wandered, we two on the shore, 
The wild waves have ceased their sad moaning, 
A hush broods o'er all as of yore. 

In the silence I listen — and listen. 
For a voice that was music to me — 

The last rays upon the waves glisten, 
And the sun sinks to rest in the sea. 

So the light of my life has departed, 

I shall see it again nevermore, 
Alone, love, alone broken-hearted, 

I wander at night on the shore. 

Yet I know as I linger at even. 

By the tryst, love, and yearning for thee. 
That thou too art waiting in heaven. 

On the shores of the Jasper sea! 



71 



I 



A NEW OFFERTORY HYMN 
Tune: Greenwood 

ALL things, dear God, are Thine; 
We would give back to Thee 
The tithe Thou didst of old exact, 
That men our works may see. 

May all our alms and deeds 
Rise up before Thy sight. 

In memory of Him who turned 
Our darkness into light ! 



72 



:. 



RENUNCIATION 

IF to be saved from self, 
If to be Christian be thine aim, 
Cut off thine hand, if it offend. 
Pluck out thine eye, if its glance tend 
Toward selfish ease or greed or shame ; 
Thou canst not thus thy spirit maim; 
At last complete, it shall ascend, 
Thou ownest it dross, if fearful friend, 
To fling thy metal in the flame ! 



73 



THE PULPIT AND THE PEWS • 

WHETHER asleep or waking, who shall say ? 
Not T, for one, but, be that as it may. 
The aged organist avows he heard 
What here shall be related, word for word. 
A man devout he was and true, who mused 
Much on eternal things, and wide diffused 
Through old St. Calvin's arches high and dim 
The echo of the heavenly seraphim. 
On Sundays and at wedding festivals. 
At costly christenings and at funerals, — 1 1 

But I digress; that which he told to me 
Must be set down without more parley. 

He 
Affirms it happened on a Sunday night 
At service close, if I remember right, 
Somewhere about the early part of June. 
The last strain of a dear familiar tune ■ I 

Throbs in the organ's mighty heart, while he, 
The player, holds the chord caressingly. 
The bustling sexton hurries here and there 
Extinguishing the lights, the sexes pair, 
Until at last the stragglers all are gone 
And in the church the dreamer is alone. 

74 



< 



THE PULPIT AND THE PEWS 

He knows not, if he slept, when he awoke; 
But certifies to this: the Pulpit spoke. 

The Pulpit 

I long have meant to speak a word, dear Pews, 
Upon a theme on which I fear your views 
Are sadly lax. About this subject vext 
And ramified, were I to preach, my text 
You'd in Ecclesiastes find, writ plain, 
So plain no wayfarer may read in vain. 
But better an informal talk I deem 
With what the preacher speaketh as a theme. 
In chapter seventh, verse the sixth, is this: 
''Like crackling thorns beneath a pot, so is 
The laughter of a fool" — which personage, 
Undoubtedly, dear friends, the ancient sage 
Meant should personify the skeptic, he 
Whose outbursts of denial prove to be 
As fatuous as crackling thorns that burn 
To dust and ashes for all men to spurn. 
Or, if you like, agnostic we shall call 
Him who believes he can send to the wall 
With sneering laughter the ineffable 
Until all tests are found infallible. 
Which cachinnation as innocuous is 
As is the burning branches' fitful hiss. 
. Third Pew 

If this, dear Pulpit, be a colloquy, 
I'd like to ask a question. 

75 



THE PULPIT AND THE PEWS 

The Pulpit 
Certainly. 

Third Pew 

If so the crackling thorn is laugh of fools, 

As to the pot's contents, how teach the schools? 

Is it the seething caldron of theology 

In this our day? Kindl}^ enlighten me. 

I'd like the ''solid contents, " as it were, 

Of that same pot. 

The Pulpit 

Precisely I aver 
The ' ' solid contents ' ' a known point to be 
Of mathematics, not theology. 
Which sort of ''point," as scientists conclude, 
' ' Position " has , but never ' ' magnitude . " 
And hence we see as at a single glance 
Your question's utter insignificance ! 
Said I not, brethren, that ye all are lax, 
E'en now see Science rear her head and tax 
The Word for revenue of fact. Now I 
Am one that holds, as all can testify, 
That Science in no fearful jeopardy 
Places our holy Faith, but rather she 
Becomes more like a little child each day 
With pebbles by the sea of Truth at play. 
The vessel and its contents matter not, 
The import of the metaphor. 

76 



J 



THE PULPIT AND THE PEWS 

Fifth Pew 

The pot 
Is metaphor. Like crackHng of the thorns 
Beneath, the laughter of the fool that scorns — 
Your pardon, but I'd like much to inquire 
If a similitude you hold the fire. 

The Pulpit 

Aha! Dear friends, I beg of you, to mark 
That we are never left quite in the dark 
As to essentials in the written Word, 
Or to the ''points," ''Five Points" as you have 
heard. 

Fifth Pew 

Which being all unmathematical 

It surelv cannot be heretical 

To hold that Calvin's "points" have magnitude 

But no position, or as I conclude. 

None that at this late date is tenable, 

Nor, sir, to reason quite amenable ! 

First Pew 

Brother, you do forget yourself to speak 

Thus in the Pulpit's presence. Where the 

meek 
Receive the earth, you never need aspire! — 
But we are speaking, I believe, of fire. 

77 



THE PULPIT AND THE PEWS 

The Pulpit 

We were, dear brethren ; please to mark this well, 

In Holy Writ it symbolizes Hell } 

Invariably. And please to notice next, - 

The fool, who is the subject of our text, 

Will find at last that which he held before 

As highly colored Hebrew metaphor 

To be a veritable lake of fire 

Fed by an angry God's eternal ire, 

Which shall devour, without consuming, all 

To whom he never willed effectual call. 

Hence, friends, and finally, observe I pray, 

Since he who laughs best, laughs the last, how 

they 
Who hold the doctrines from expediency, 
If from no higher cause, at last shall be 
Found at the Right Hand with the blessed 

sheep. 
While fools and scoffers gnash their teeth and 

weep. 

Galleries {singing) 

''Lead Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, 

Lead Thou me on. 
The night is dark and I am far from home, 

Lead Thou me on. 
Keep Thou my feet, I do not ask to see 
The distant scene, one step enough for me." 

78 



THE PULPIT AND THE PEWS 

Ninth Pew 

You can't alarm me with a sulphurous smell; 
I don't believe in it. 'Tis very well 
To frighten boys with, whom you chance to see 
Purloining apples from your favorite tree. 
They will disgorge and run, but, all the same, 
I find the present cane, than threat of flame, 
Far more persuasive, in such cases. Then 
We are not told that our first parents, when 
Caught in a like offense (and I must say 
If ever there were sinners it was they) , 
Were threatened with the fire that quenches not, 
But dealt with most summarily on the spot. 
Why was no mention made of endless Hell 
In that stupendous moment, please to tell? 

Last Pew 

brother, don't you know? That story, now, 
Is held an allegory, and I vow 
That squelches every theory for me 
Of doom before or after, don't you see! 
There's quite enough to set my soul aflame 
Right here in church where I would save the 

same. 
One thing is what the Psalmist calls the scorn 
Of those that are at ease night, noon, and morn. 
Of course St. Calvin, rich and prosperous. 
Is not intended for the like of us. 

79 



THE PULPIT AND THE PEWS 

The Pulpit 

You shame its teachings, brother, speaking so; 
Is not salvation free, I'd Hke to know? 

Last Pew | 

It used to be and may be so again, 

And in a sense it is so now, but then, 

While free to millionaires and such, the crumbs 

Are flung to mission chapels in the slums. 

I've been there, at a chapel where a youth 

Sprouted a pair of whiskers with the truth, 

And told us if we all were poor and low 

It was because the Father loved us so. . ; 

But if we'd every evil habit cast, : 

And be real good, that we might go at last 

To great St. Calvin and be rich, you know. )| 

\\ 
Ninth Pew 

Aha, my brother, you don't have to go 

To mission chapels only, to be told 

That righteousness Is worth its weight in gold ! 

Nor to behold, held up before your eyes, , 

For spiritual effort, worldl}^ prize. 

The Pulpit 

And with authority the Psalmist says. 
Who loves Jerusalem and all her ways 
Shall prosper largely here and evermore. 
But never they who in her seek a sore — 

80 



11 



THE PULPIT AND THE PEWS 

Bear that in mind, you carping cavilers, 
Time was the Pulpit silenced swaggerers ! 

Camp Chair {in aisle) 

Sirs, for my brother I've a remedy, — - 

I, too, have felt the scorner's scorn as he, — 

Perhaps I have no right to take the floor, 

As I'm no pew-holder, but a furor 

Ecclesiastical, my friends, finds me 

All there, — as on a flower's breast, the bee! 

But that's not to the point. Plebians mine, 

For Indigence you need no longer whine. 

Thank God that libraries are now quite free. 

Take out a favorite volume, come with me 

Beyond the city's din, the churches frown, 

Beside some little hymning brook sit down 

Beneath a tree and open wide your heart. 

Likewise your book; 'twill always take your part. 

'Twill never ask you if you wear a ring 

Or purple and fine linen, never sting 

With side-long glance, and the great company, 

Apostles, heroes, martyrs, saints, shall be 

Who fold their wings and straightway come to 

meet 
E'en me the staggering make-shift of a seat! 

Middle Pew 

'Tis Emerson, I think, who says he likes 

A church, a priest, and all the rest, that strikes 

Right home. 

6 8i 



THE PULPIT AND THE PEWS 

The Pulpit 

Ah, you would lend your patronage 
To Christ's own Temple, where himself in rage 
Scourged the blasphemers ! 

Camp Chair 

Now, then, Brother Pew! 
The reverend gentleman cannot mean you 
By ''blasphemers." Come, let us have your 
view. 

Middle Pew 

Just one word more, please, I'm so tired out 
By business all the week, and bile and doubt, 
That when the Sunday comes I only know 
I love to steal a while away and go 
Into the Tabernacle with the blest. 
And feel that one day we shall be at rest 
Where that for which all things on earth are sold 
Our feet shall tread on, for the streets are gold ! 

Fifth Pew 

I hold with you, my brother. So I love 
God's Temple, image of the house above 
Not made with hands. I love the Sacred Word 
And, too, the voiceless prayers, heard of the 

Lord 
No less than those on winged words that rise 
Like incense from the place of sacrifice. 

82 



THE PULPIT AND THE PEWS 

Where in His name are gathered two or three 

Has He not promised there Himself to be ? 

It is not good for man to be alone; 

And books, my friends, have offered me a stone 

When I have hungered. But whene'er I sought 

The very Presence in His earthly court, 

I have drunk quenching waters and been fed 

At His own table with a living bread. 

* Ninth Pew 

And I — I am a wanderer from the fold. 

I fall an easy prey to greed of gold 

And worldly temptings, but I feel within 

As here I muse a hatred of the sin 

That drags me earthward and prevents my soul 

That longs to press on to the heavenly goal, 

Free from the bonds that bind, the aims that ban, 

To run the race that worthy is a man. 

Side Pew 

It is not thus with me. The agony 
Upon my prostrate soul lies heavily 
Of this discordant world. To me it wears 
A woman's look in pain, who hardly dares 
To lift her eyes upon the thing she bears. 
Such monsters she has borne of sin and shame 
That her fair offspring blush to own her name. 
The needless woe, the torture undeserved. 
The good man stricken down, the bad preserved 

83 



THE PULPIT AND THE PEWS 

The rude awakening from Youth's bright dream; 
The witnessing Truth's robe without a seam 
Parted and torn by shame, and cant and hate; 
Disaster whose repair comes late, too late; 
The growing old and finding little true. 
The wishing we had died when life was new, — 
These sights and sounds unutterabh^ sad 
Bid my soul seek a balm in Gilead. 

Fifth Pew 

Turn hither ward the foot that well-nigh slips, 
And God shall put a new song on your lips. 
Come, friends, with me. I love her every 

part, 
Christ's church on earth for which His lonely 

heart 
Bled on the cross. I hear the preacher's call 
The reading of the Word, but more than all 
I love the hymns : for they bring back to me 
Old memories ; and pictures dear I see 
Of faces all exultant, sad or shy. 
Of lips that white and trembling said good- 
bye. 
Of eyes that shone once, and only once, bright 
With an effulgent glory from the white 
Throne of God, then closed forevermore. 
I seem to stand upon the very shore 
And watch the sunrise of that endless day 
Wherein, if naught else, tears are wiped away. 

84 



ji 



THE PULPIT AND THE PEWS 

Galleries (singing) 

''So long thy power hath led me, sure it still 

Will lead me on, 
O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till 

The night is gone. ' 
Then" with the morn those angel faces smile 
Which I have loved long since but lost awhile." 

Just here the organist was made aware 
That from the keyboard fell his fingers, where 
They all this time had held in cloudland aw^ed 
The ''Lux Benigna's" last triumphant chord. 



85 



"IT IS EXPEDIENT" 

O WISDOM, not of Earth and deep as Heaven, 
Thyself a Substitute, a good but lent, 
Not more to Thee than to us all, was given, 
Thou, too, sought refuge in expedient. 

The Infant, from its home in soft caresses, 
Cries for the moon, but is at last appeased, 

In tiny palms the shining coin it presses, 
Accepts the loving subterfuge well pleased, 

To men and women in the cot and palace, 
Whose youth prized nought but Love and 
Truth and Fame 

Drinking Life's waters from a brimming chalice, 
Make shift to quaff dark Lethe from the same. 

The soul sighs doubly for its native Heaven, 
Its home, its Father, and its element. 

But learns to wait, accepts the mandate given, — 
And Life itself is an expedient , 



86 



FRIAR BENEDICT'S PRAYER 

FRIAR BENEDICT, a just man and good 
Most loved and cherished by the brother- 
hood 
Of saints, lay on his dying bed. 
As the sands of life ran out one by one 
And the radiant beams of the morning sun 
Through the iron bars of the window fell 
On the cold stone wall of the friar's cell 
The sick man started and faintly said : 

''My work, thank God, is o'er! 
I shall never hunger more, 
But to my home andThee 
Father, my soul shall rise 
And eat of life's fair tree 
In the midst of Paradise." 
At dawn the friars met and sadly said 
Their masses round the friar's dying bed. 
And as they prayed, did rays of sunlight fall 
Upon the friar's dismal cold stone wall, 
Whereon was writ, as each monk plainly read, 
These words, ' ' Give us this day our daily bread . ' ' 
This was the holy friar's daily prayer 
With great exactness and with pious care 

87 



FRIAR BENEDICT'vS PRAYER 

He wrote it, where the morning's first bright ray 

Would it illumine, so that through each day 

He might take with him the image glorified 

And with the image the prayer sanctified. 

Upon the Monastery's moss-grown side 

An ivy clung and thus at matintide 

The sunlight streaming through the window fell 

On the prayer- writ wall of the friar's cell. 

Casting the shadow of the ivy where 

The holy man had cut in stone his prayer, 

Making illumination richly fraught 

With beauty, such as man's hand never wrought. 

Think not the holy man prayed but for bread 

Wherewith the earthly body might be fed, 

No, he had learned through sorrow, toil and care 

The utmost meaning of that blessed prayer, 

Therefore he called around his dying bed 

The friars of the brotherhood and said: 

' ' O, brothers, when your hearts are faint and worn 

When the great burdens that so long you've 

borne 
Grow each day heavier; when you'd dash the cup 
From off your lips, and give the labor up — 
O, then throw down your beads and foolish arts 
And take your hungry longing tired hearts 
Unto your Saviour, and with bowed head, 
Pray thus : — '' Give us this day our daily bread, * ' 
Then go your way and God will show it thee, 
You'll find it in all deeds of charity, 

88 



n 



FRIAR BENEDICT'S PRAYER 

You'll find it in the flowers, the grass, the trees, 
You'll know it in the gentle morning breeze. 
You'll find it in the sunset sky at even, 
You'll see it in the star-besprinkled heaven, 
For these are tokens of the boundless love 
Of the Almighty one who rules above. 
Which if we'd take but as our spirit's food 
We should be drawn each hour nearer God." 
The friar ceased to speak and faintly sighed, — 
''Rest at last, brothers, rest at last" — then died. 
And as they bore him to his final rest 
Surcharged with sorrow was each stern monk's 

breast. 
For Death had chosen from the brotherhood 
The best beloved — Old Benedict the good. 
They laid him down to sleep among the blest 
Who long since went from earth to heavenly rest ; 
Then as upon the air with soothing fell 
The soft sweet music of the vesper bell, 
Slowly the friars wound their way- 
Back to the Monastery, as the day 
Was sinking into night. But Michael, one 
Of the good brotherhood when all were gone, 
Felldown upon the new-made grave and wept. 
He, buried deeply in his heart had kept 
His sorrow until now, and now had come 
That in his anguish he might be alone. 
When all that makes life dear and blessed, goes 
Into the grave and we are left alone— 

89 



FRIAR BENEDICT'S PRAYER 

For Benedict had loved him with a love 
Passing the love of woman, and above 
All others, had chosen to call him ''Friend." 
And now that blest companionship must end. 

*' God knows 
We need thee, Benedict, " he cried 
'' If Christ had been with us, thou hadst not died, 
With thee, we lose our guide, our prop, our stay. 
And there is now for us no one to pray." 
''Thy prayers, O Benedict, were always heard. 
For thou didst live so near unto thy God, 
And when the fever came and drought, we might 
Have told our beads from morning until night 
And Heaven not heard one cry, but thou didst 

pray 

And wasting drought and fever passed away." 

"But now thou'lt care no more for our complaints. 

Thrice blessed with the Father, Son, and Saints — " 

"O, Benedict, my brother, thou art gone 

God, give me patience to live on alone, 

Alone, alone" — then as he ceased to speak 

He heard a voice within him saying, ''Take 

The good around thee as thy spirit's food 

And thou each hour shalt be drawn near God." 

Then Michael cried, "Blest Lord then not alone, 

But near to Thee, and to the dear one gone." 

And the voice answered him within his soul, 

"Go thou thy way, thy faith hath made thee 

whole." 

90 




AN ETCHING 

A STRIP of land 
Upon its edge 
At either hand — 
Stiff v/ith the brine — 
A fringe of sedge. 
A single hne 
That scarce divides 
The sky and sea, 
And running free 
A ship that rides 
Out from the lands 
Whereon there stands 
A girl — Ah, me — 
Who wrings her hands; 
The day is done 
The sinking sun 
Drops out of sight 
'Twill soon the night 
There in the west, 
I hear a cry 

* ' Good-bye, good-bye ' '- 
God knows the rest. 

91 



THE EBBING TIDE 

TWILL cost Hugh a penny o' money, 
To put me under the ground, 
But I shall not hear his grumbling words, 

I shall be sleeping so sound ; 
And in springtime the dandelions 

Will cover my bed with gold. 
And none to rail at the ''wicked waste" 
Of the little spendthrifts bold. 

Jim's wife will come to the funeral, 

She always knows what is right, 
I shall not wince at her stare, for once 

My hands will be nice and white; 
I never did mind her upstart ways, 

I only thought of poor Jim, 
I never let on I saw, for fear 

She would take it out of him. 

And the girls will come with their husbands 

And cry a little and fret, 
And think I might have done this and that 

And then go home and forget — 
But there's one is with me always, he 

Who died, not a half-year old, 
I keep on dreaming, dreaming o' him 

The one lost lamb of the fold. 

92 



THE EBBING TIDE 

I used to think when I came to die 

(I hoped 'twould be in the spring) 
That rd have no other thought but God, 

And I'd hear the angels sing. 
But it's really not like that at all, 

I go over night and day 
The things of earth I have longed for so — 

A piano for Nell to play, 
A sewing-machine and a kitchen range, 

But they never came my way. 

And now I have only one desire, — 
Just to be quit o' the pain, — 

How I dream I hear the baby cry, 
Hark, there it is again; 

Poor dear wee Lambie, yes 'tis he. 
Calling as hard as he can — 
Then, Mother is coming quick, there, there, 

To her hungry little man ! 

He never was weaned away from me 

Like Jim and Nell and the rest,- — 
Mother is coming! — I feel again 

His happy lips at my breast — 
And oh, his eyes! — Star answers star — 

They smile back God's own smile, — 
In that pure light I see it all — 

Life, life made worth the while. 



93 



THE MIGHT OF MIRTH \ 

THE sick and sorry gathered near, 
The muezzin, at noon, to hear, 
But none, not one, was comforted 
Which seeing, the sad mufti led 
His steps to where the fountain rose 
On wings of spray; in perfect pose 

And guise of agony superb ij 

He sat him down beside the curb ; 'i 

With folded hands and bowed head 
The Hundred Sacred Names, he said, 
Adding: — ''Words light on tongue, like clods 
Lie in the balance which is God's." 
And as he mumbles, weeps, and wails, 
Comes one, the "Teller" called, "of Tales," 
Who lifted up his voice and cried, — 
"Ye faithful hear! 

Once did betide 
This happening, a King who took 
A city, straightway brought to book 
All those that dwelt therein, he made 
His direful purpose known and bade 
Each carry off his dearest prize 
Or see it burn before his eyes. 

94 



THE MIGHT OF MIRTH 

Some carried gold, some food, alack, 
But one retreated with a sack 
To whom the King spake; — 

''By life's span, 
What hast thou?" 

''Laughter," said the man, 
" My bag is full of Mirth." 

"A thing 
I had forgot, " replied the King, 
"Divide with me." 

Whereat the clown 
Opened his sack and set it down, 
" 'Tis Allah teacheth Charity, 
Take freely what thou wilt, " said he. 
And the King vanquished, cried aloud; — 
"Thy deed shall save the city" — 

Bowed 
The ' ' Teller of Good Tales "and mirth 
Gladdened the group, as sun the earth. 

But the sad mufti heavenward glanced — 
* 'When Death shall claim thy being, canst 
Thou then, bold jester, carry off 
A sack of laughter, wherefore scoff? " 

"I know not. Sire, but this I know 

'Tis Allah sends both mirth and woe, 

Thou sayest, 'They laugh who win,' 'tis chaff; 

They win, say I, they win who laugh!'* 

95 



MULTUM IN PARVO 

THE morning-glory tremulous with rain, 
Its purple chalice full to overflowing, 
Looks on the long-lived rose without a pain 
Nor grudges it the bliss of further knowing. 
Its cup is full, though mxOrning brief and bright 
Suffices for its life of royal splendor. 
Canst teach it of the dew, the rain, the light? 
It knoweth all — has Earth aught else to render ? 

No, no, I grudge thee not the coming years, 
The noonday's vulgar glare, the evening's fading. 
Viewing thy bliss with eyes undimmed b}^ tears 
Thy wedded happiness without upbraiding ! 
Canst tell me, glowing Woman, what is Love 
Nay, I have known it to such perfect measure — 
Though brief as nave's poise, ere its pearls 

dissolve — 
That Death I crave, to seal my own, the Treasure. 



96 



SAINT PHILIP NERI 

FLORENCE, A. D. 15 15-1595 

AS a wave pauses ere its pearls dissolve, 
Then plunges once more in the living tide, 
Sobbing but obedient, may I resolve 
In common ways with Love still to abide : — 
Eternal Wayfarer, dear Love, 
I would arise and follow Thee, 
The badge of my discipleship, 
The dropped net by the alluring sea. 
I pray Thee hold unto my lips 
The Sacrificial Cup, remove 
It not until is slaked Thy mortal thirst, 
For Thou wert fevered on the Cross accurst. 
For others, be the prize, the goal well won, 
I would upon Thy lowliest errands run 
In shadowy places where at morn, 
They cry, ''Would God 'twere night, " 
At night, ''Would God 'twere morn, " 
Mad from the pain of life and blight 
That yet must needs be borne. 
The hearts that with God's awful patience have 
Impatient grown, let me forbid to rave, 
7 97 



SAINT PHILIP NERI 

Teaching our times are in His tireless hand 
To Whom the centuries are grains of sand, 

Within an hour-glass 

So swift they pass, 
His thoughts are not as our thoughts, for we are 
His thoughts, and never one of us shall mar 

The perfect whole 

When He hath writ the scroll. 
Unto the Atoning Harmony oblate 
May I inspire the wings of song that wait 
In all men's hearts to waft themselves to Heaven 
In antiphons of prayer, at noon and even. 
For Very Voice of Very God outrang 
What time the morning stars together sang 
And Choired Angels raptured to prolong 
The primal note, proclaimed Love's birth in 

song. 
While Mary, from the lips that deigned to dim 
The blossom of her girl-breast, learned to h^^mn 

A Woman's only victory 

Half anguish and half ecstasy. 
Let me see dull eyes glow when I draw near, - ^ 
Let me bring happy tasks and harmless cheer 
To little boys and girls, for Thou didst take 
Into Thine arms young children, not Thine own, 
And pray God's pity on them for Thy sake 

That wentest through life alone, 

Alone through death 
Even by God forsook at Thy last breath. 

98 




SAINT PHILIP NERI 

Unsearchable, I lose in Thee all loss, 
I fall at Thy impassioned, mystic Cross 
To clasp Thy dear, dead feet and cry: — 
Oh, Crucified, since Thou didst will to die 
A seeming Failure — even so would I. 



99 



'I READ MY BOOKS IN WOMAN^S 
LOOKS" 

AH, Marianna seemeth me, 
Like nothing else so much to be 
As a rare volume, richly bound, 
In which, when opened, there is found 
No knowledge, sense, nor sentiment, 
But litter unintelligent. 

While Isabelle is like a book 
Made for the uses of a cook, 
Which may be handled carelessly 
As never other tome should be, 
Within discover her bead-roll. 
Collects for body, not for soul. 

And Araminta is a tract ' . 

With wordy controversy packed, 
Not with the things of mild report 
Informed, but full of smart retort. 
Gad ! while a true man knows himself, 
Such will be left upon the shelf. 

But Daphne doth the heart delight 
Like volume bound in vellum white, 

100 



I 



MY BOOKS IN WOMAN'S LOOKS 

Wherein may all men plainly see 
Sweet wit and dainty poesy, 
Wide thought of human joys and woes 
And wisdom such as love bestows. 



lOI 



^ 



THE IMPECUNIOUS TUTOR 

HE haunts the purHeus of the Square, 
An Impecunious Tutor, 
At morning, noon, and night he's there, — 

An unrequitted suitor ? 
Ah no, he couldn't if he would, 

For quite another reason 
He loiters in the neighborhood 
Both in and out of season. 

For in the Square, a man named Brooks, 

A Scotchman, lately landed. 
Sells, cheap for cash, no end of books. 

Shop-worn and second-handed. 
Hence you may see the Tutor tall, 

' With linen frayed and flabby. 
Spending his money at the stall 

And going very shabby. 

I hesitate to tell, in truth. 

What wit and wisdom He there 

At Brooks, in nuggets, lest forsooth 
The world should quickly hie there, 

102 



f 



THE IMPECUNIOUS TUTOR 

And buy him out and leave my friend, 
The Tutor all distraught there, 

For wanting books, his life would end, 
But listen what he bought there. 

One day, against the chimney jamb, — 

A treasure, worth the finding, — 
He saw, complete, the works of Lamb, 

Half-price in half -calf binding ! 
Again he bought for fifty cents, 

Spencer on ''Education," 
Perfect, save for two little rents, 

A lode in his vocation. 



O joy, O bliss, O glad surprise. 

His heart went like a knocker^ 
The ''London Lyrics" met his eyes 

A very Frederic Locker ! 
O, miracle of luck, again 

His choice was none of Hobson's, 
He saw without a spot or stain, 

"Vignettes in Rhyme, " of Dobson's. 

He found one glorious Saturday , 

And not so very battered, 
"The Newcomes!" and IVe heard him say, 

The "Adsum" page is spattered 
103 



THE IMPECUNIOUS TUTOR 

With yellow stains, he swears are tears, 
He loves the unknown owner, 

Of course 'twas" not a man, he sneers, 
If he had only known her ! 

Pray is it any wonder then, 

The Tutor, of few pleasures, 
Should prowl about the Scotchman's den 

In search of further treasures ? 
Possessing which, the dingy wing 

He hires from the souter, 
A palace is, himself a king, 

The Impecunious Tutor! 



104 



i 



TO JANE AUSTEN ■ 

YOU were a wondrous child, 
And your praises ran as wild 
In those days 
As when you graced the halls 
Of the gentry, with their balls 
And their plays. 

But ril whisper, lady dear, 
That you seem a trifle queer, 

(S'il vous plait) 
To the woman novelist 
And the lady suffragist 

Of to-day. 

You've a pretty little prattle. 
And a petty tittle-tattle, 

Yet again. 
For a child you know too much 
And you've just a worldly touch 

That gives pain. 

You're a gossip and wiseacre, 
A little town dressmaker. 
And a wit. 

105 



TO JANE AUSTEN 

With your mouth quite full of pins, 
You fasten neighbors' sins 
'Till they fit. 

If you chronicled small beer, 
It really would appear, 

Would it not? 
That you'd nothing else to show, 
And you surely are, you know, 

Unforgot ! 



io6 



ON AN OLD VOLUME OF "PUNCH" 

CONTAINING JOHN LEECH'S 

PICTURES 

WAS ever there another did prescribe 
Balm for the thorns of Hfe in quip and 

jest and gibe 
Like the kind Leech, whose pencil yet could draw 
Moral and text and tears in all he saw : — 
Witness the ''Blighted Being, *' in his teens, 
The Clown's Girl-wife, dying behind the scenes, 
''Pater familias" duly bending o'er 
"Cold raeats," that have been duly "blessed 

before," 
"The Furriner, " at whom the British Nation 
No longer 'Eaves a 'arf brick's detestation; 
The Braggart Sportsman challenging his doom, 
The puny Crossing-Sweeper with his broom. 
His little lordship envying him the job — 

Of Brothers all ! Is it to laugh or sob ? — 
Ecclesiasticus without the sneer 
La Manchas Knight with love-tipped sword 
and spear. 



107 



THE BRONTES 

THREE violets, growing on the waste obscure, 
Three stars alone upon a midnight sky, 
Three nightingales that never learned to fly, 
Three broken hea;rts, wild, passionate, and pure, 
Misunderstood, unschooled save to endure — 
How lowly were their lives, their thoughts 

how high; 
Their works so dauntless, and themselves so 

shy, 
In consciousness of right alone secure, 
With knowledge only how to love and pra}^ ! 
Did ever any from such scanty store 
Gather so large a hoard, meet and unmeet ? 
Did ever lives so write themselves away. 
Or ever any woman hands before 
Pour such a bitter ointment at Love's feet? 



io8 



TO^GEORGE ELIOT 

ORARE grand woman from whose lion's 
strength 
Comes forth a sweetness garnered in all fields 
Where Thought its richest, purest honey yields, 
O mind of man and woman's heart at length. 
Joined by God's hand in union, perfect, true, 
Whose fruit is Wisdom, like a Father's grave 
And Love, surpassing any Mother's, brave; 
Our Age unlovely counts of such but few. , 

O watcher on the Tower who usherest in 
The better day which ''martyred men" foresaw 
When sacred Truth shall her good reign begin 
And all shall own her swa}^ and heed her law, — 
Thou knowest it not, but thou hast been to me. 
One of the Choir unseen, thou prayest to be! 



109 



BURNS 

REMEMBER little town of Ayr, 
That he who all your luster wrought, 
Sped through your streets in mad despair 
And for the Philistines made sport. 



no 



ii 



i 



JANE WELSH CARLYLE 

IF you could live your life again, 
Despite all pain 
You'd choose to be his wife again, 
Wouldn't you, Jane? 



Ill 



BOSWELL 

WHAT would our Johnsons be 
Without such fellows? 
Mute as an organ, sure, 
Wanting the bellows. 



11 



112 



SAINT BRIDGET'S DAY 

A SISTER'S days were sweet at Rydal Mount, 
Yet had I given them for just one other : — 
A rare and cloudless day at Mackery End, 
With the incomparable Brother. 



113 



EMERSON 



AH, how they hung upon his lips, 
Those lofty country-folk, 
Above the dripping tallow dips 
Great light shone as he spoke. 



114 






RICHARD WATSON GILDER 

A PATRIOT, lover of the poor, not power, 
He kept the New Commandment of the 
Law, 
A Watchman, singing as he paced the tower, — 
God grant we catch a ghmpse of what he saw. 



115 



ON A LATE VICTORIAN 

THINGS seen from "A College Window, " 
Have cloyed in a few stern years, — 
Of those viewed from the South Sea House 
When still read, through their tears ! 



ii6 



UNDER THE WIZARD'S SPELL 

SUCH an aggravating boy ! 
Knotted shoe string, broken toy, 
Playmates striving to decoy 

Yet he nothing heeds. 
Unlearned task, neglected work, 
What cares he, the little shirk, 
While pursued through mire and murk 
The MacGregor speeds ! 

Pales the light of common da^^ 

As he reads, and far away 

Life grows great, or grave, or gay; 

This wise runs the tale : — 
Right comes ever by its own, 
Evil shall be overthrown, 
Heroes by their deeds are known. 

Only cowards fail. 

Dream, dream while you may, dear boy. 
Nor let prosy facts annoy : 
For you, as for bold Rob Roy, 

Foes are lurking near; 
You shall wake to meet them, pray 
That high faith you hold to-day 
Yours may be, and in the fray 

Nought can make you fear. 
117 



DESTINY 

1789 

OF noble lineage and name, 
Of fine old English stock she came , 
.A high-bred, gracious, placid dame, 

Stately and tall. 
With measured step and pirouette 
She danced the solemn minuet 
In General Washington's own set 
At that first ball. 

1889 

Alas, what blows are dealt by fate! 
When the great day we celebrate 
Shall her descendants, with the great, 

Dance and make merry ? 
Alack! But one is to the fore. 
Her grandson's son, who lords it o'er 
The village school, a mile or more 

From Dobbs, his ferry ! 



118 



A CITY SONNET 

BROOKLYN BRIDGE 

ATHWART the sky it stretches, hke a bow 
Of promise seemingly, since night and 
day,— 
While to the sea the river feels its way, — 
Men press in expectation, to and fro, 
As if they thought to find with hopes aglow. 
The treasure-trove, which the child-minded say 
Lies at the rainbow's either end — stay, st y 
There is a City whither all shall go 
Where no one ever seeketh e'en his own, 
Nor ever an\^ hearken to the cry 
*"Tis nought, 'tis nought," for barter is un- 
known, 
Where gates of light swing open for a sigh,- 
And that for which all things on earth are sold, 
Is trod on, for the Citv's streets are gold! 



119 



A LULLABY 

OLIFE, life, life! 
Thou art fair but to the child 
To man, thou art toil and strife, 
Sorrow thou art to the wife, 
To youth, th'art chaos wild! 

O days, days, days ! 

Ye are not what ye seem, 

Ye are not for Poet's lays. 

Ye are not for Lover's praise — 

Sleep, sleep, my child, and dream ! 

O night, night, night! 
My darling, 'tis the best ! 
'Tis calmness after the fight 
'Tis sweetness after the light, 
'Tis rest, my child, 'tis rest! 



120 



AUGUST, 1878 

1SEE the bloom upon the distant hills, 
Divinely blue, immeasurably deep, 
A sudden rapture all my being fills, 

For very gladness, darling, I could weep. 

So in their purple depths were thy rare eyes 

Inscrutably divine, divinely true 
When first we met, where peaks and peaks arise 

To meet the ether's poorer, paler blue. 

I look again; the bloom is lost in mist, 

That came I know not whence I know not 
when. 

Anon, by Heaven's own glorious sunlight kissed 
And now bedimmed by fog from out the fen. 

So in their hot wild tears were thy grand eyes. 
When last we parted on the mountain's brow. 

Blinded by passion's heat and grief's surprise, 
But then, all radiance, all cloud-crowned now. 



121 



MINE OWN PEOPLE 

ACALVINISTIC training for a far-oflf Heaven , 
A disregard for this world where we live 
and move, 
A weight of melancholy and of mirth a leaven 
A knowledge of but little else than how to love . 



122 



i 



MY VANISHED YOUTH 

I SAW thee last upon the mountain top 
Viewing the world which seemed thy very 
own, 
When I went wandering down the steep hillside, 
In the sweet morning-time, unknown, alone. 

And thee wert shading with thy hand, thine 
eyes, 

Watching the sun rise in the kindling east. 
At noon, I could not see thee, for the glare 

Nor hear thee, for thy matin hymn had ceased. 

Just when thy vision faded from my sight, 
I do not know, I cannot tell just where, 

A sudden glory, from the setting sun, 

Lights up the mountain-top — thou art not 
there ! 

And now 'tis eventide and I have borne 

The Day's hard burden, and its burning heat, 
'Twill soon be night. Death's night is near at 
hand, 
Ah, my lost Youth, next morning shall we 
meet ? 



123 



TO-DAY 

THE youth thinks he holds the world's 
scepter, 
Thinks Time and Space are his own, 
Till years prove his wine to be water, 
His hardly earned bread, a stone. 

He'll get used, he will, to disaster. 

And by and by to defeat. 
And be willing to own the world ''master/' 

To kiss its old tyrannous feet. 

He'll see till 'he ceases to wonder, 

The spectacle cease to appal, 
The brass and the tinkling cymbal 

Drive Charity to the wall. 

For Love means the cross as much to-day 

As it did in the davs of old, 
And Truth means the rack as alway, 

And Fame means hunger and cold. 

The world has grown old in its struggle. 

Is stooped and wrinkled and gray. 
And sin and sorrow and care have aged — 

The only new thing is — To-day. 

124 



i 



TO-DAY 

Yes, To-day is King over all, my boy, 

To-day is King over all ; 
Own its sway, do its work, heed its call, boy, 

And down at its mighty feet fall. 



125 



I HAVE LOVED AND BEEN LOVED 

I 



HAVE loved and been loved; 
What more can earth give — 
To love is to live. 



I have gained and have lost- 
Passed power to save — 
To love is to have. 

I don't comprehend God 
But He comprehends me- 
By and by I may see. 

Was it really worth while — 
One moment of youth 
In a lifetime of ruth? 

Such night and such storm 
For one lightning's gleam 
To shatter our dream ! 



126 



I 



TO YOUNG AMERICA 

OH, Scion of a more than Queen, 
Throned 'twixt her warder seas, 
A mother is a mother still 

E'en when with tottering knees 
She drains the brazen, blinding cup 
Of folly, to the lees. 

Such largess earth has yielded her 

As who shall count or say. 
But greed of more, and more, and more 

Has ground her heart away. 
Her hands lay hold on landmarks, and 

There's none to say her nay. 

Oh, with the cloak of charity 

Walk backward and enfold 
Her mad, bedizzened, graceless form 

Her wild dishevelled gold 
Forevermore, and let to-day 

Be as a tale that's told. 



127 



HYMN 

GLORY be to God on high! 
Peace on earth, good will from Heaven ! 
Unto you a child is born ! 
Unto you a Son is given. 
Thus the holy angels sang, 
Heaven with the choral rang. 
While a lone star onward guides, 
Where God's Christmas gift abides. 

Shepherds heard that hymn of love 
Sounding from the depths above. 
Wondering saw the gleam afar 
Of that holy, pilgrim star. 
Guided by its rays divine, 
Sages to the manger bring. 
With the treasures of the mine, 
Worship's sweeter offering.. 

Ah, that star has never set, 

But it shines in glory yet 

Ever guarding, guiding still 

Patient hearts that do His will. 

Light of Lights, shine on our way, 

Gift of Gifts, be ours alway, ..." 

So when toils and tears shall cease, 

Christ may be indeed our Peace. 



128 



I 



GOLDENROD ON STAR ISLAND 

LIKE a seared conscience turned to stone, 
Or anguish shaped in rock, 
Or petrified the ocean's moan, 
Caught up by storm and shock — 

They lie heaped high on ocean's breast, 

The awful Isles of Shoals, 
Black neath the sky, while east and west, 

The sea untiring rolls. 

And green things hardly dare to wake 

Out of that stony bed, 
Choked like the words the preacher spoke 

That fruitless fell and bled. 

But there it was that summer dav. 

Deep at the rock's black base, 
The Goldenrod on graceful spray 

Lifting its shining face ! 

In vain the siren sea beguiled. 

In vain the storm assailed, 
It grew — and on it Heaven smiled , 

'Twas girded, armed, and mailed. 

9 129 



GOLDENROD ON STAR ISLAND 

It only saw a strip of sky, 

It only heard the sea, 
And yet it opened wide its eye 

In brave simplicity. 

Dear Flower, let me learn of thee, 

I too for one brief hour. 
Fixed on a reef in Time's wide sea 

Live neath an unseen Power ! 

And glimpses of the sky, I see, 

And O, forevermore, 
The music of Eternity, 

Floats from the unknown shore. 

Pray God, my soul, thou too, mayst rest 
Through blinding storm and shock, 

Unmoved on Time's unquiet breast, 
In the shadow of the Rock. 



130 



RELIGION 

TIS soundness of the heart, 
'Tis saneness of the mind, 
'Tis Naaman in Rimmon's house 
The living God to find. 



131 



MOONLIGHT 

1 NEVER asked to lay a weary head, 
Upon his breast, 
Only to feel his shoulder 'neath the load, 
Ah, that was rest. 

Only to have my fears cried down the wind. 

By his brave laugh, 
The flail's rude blow on blow softened and 
soothed 

By his dear chaff ! 

And ray possessions all things beautiful 

Were ever made, 

Sun, moon, and stars, still streams and pastures 
green 

Never to fade. 



132 



"WITHIN YOU" 

WHY am I taught to pray, 
''Be done on earth, Thy will, 
And in the selfsame breath to say, 
''Deliver us from ill, " 
Unless it be 
I come to see. 
Day after day, from morn till even. 
That I am all there is of earth 
And all there is of Heaven. 



133 



REST 

1 WONDER where it is, the spot of earth, 
Where I shall lay me down at last to sleep, 
Where sound of industry or strife or mirth, 
Or music, or the sight of those that weep. 
Shall reach my ears no more. 

Shall it be here under my native skies ? 

Heaven grant it, for I think I could not rest 
Neath alien stars, strange sunset and sunrise, 

Away from those that knpw and love me best. 
Upon another shore. 

I cannot know, it may be far away, 

Where even now, mankind pass to and fro, 

Conquered or conquering, listless or at bay, 
Or in some lonely hamlet heaped with snow. 
In sound of ocean's roar.- 

Why need I care, siunmer shall follow spring. 

Winter the auttnnn; though I know it not 
Each season shall its fitting mantle fling 

Dead leaves, or snow, or blossoms on the spot* 
And all is as before. 

134 



REvST 

I shall be satisfied, while life shall last, 
If only ye who love me here awhile,. 

Will know and understand, I love you past 
All feeble sign of word or deed or smile. 
Dear God, I ask no more. 



135 



1 



I LOVED THEE ONCE 

I LOVED thee once, long years ago, 
• As something more than human, 
I love thee now for what thou art — 

So grand, so good a woman, 
That he who should dare to call thee *'mine'' 
Must be less human than divine ! 



136 



J 



BROOKLYN TOWN 

DEAR Home for thee I yearn, 
My eyes toward thee I turn, 
Old Brooklyn Town. 
Thy sunsets from the ''Heights, " 
Thy bridges, starry nights, 
Thy glittering harbor-lights, 
Old Brooklyn Town! 

Guarded by ''Liberty," 
The Island at thy knee, 

Old Brooklyn Town, 
Through radiant beauty sweeps, 
To where the Beacon keeps 
Safe watch and ward, nor sleeps, 

Old Brooklyn Town. 

Beside thee — softly tread, 
The City of the Dead, 

Old Brooklyn Town, 
Lies very, very still. 
And tears like dews distill 
Upon each glade and hill. 

Old Brooklyn Town. 
137 



BROOKLYN TOWN 

The ocean is thy toy, 
Mid-stimmer's rampant joy, 

Old Brooklyn Town — 
Give back my youth to me, 
I lent it all to thee. 
Oh, City by the Sea, 

Old Brooklyn Town. 



13^ 



ANNIE LAURIE 

AT evening time I dreamt I died, 
And went where all the loves are biding, 
Of kindred, friend, bridegroom, and bride, 
And entered without need of guiding. 

Strangely I felt myself at home. 

Familiar were both scene and setting ; 

Or could I have been there before, 
I kept remembering and forgetting. 

It seemed Love's very self was there. 

But as effulgence, not as being, 
Not like to those of Patmos Isle, 

The revelations of my seeing. 

There were no gates on every side, 
Nor candlesticks with branches seven. 

Nor on a pallid horse was Death, 
Yet I was sure I was in Heaven. 

I saw the essence of a smile, 

And dear eyes newly grown immortal. 
When soft, as by a miracle, 

Was opened song's eternal portal. 

139 



ANNIE LAURIE 

And lo, I heard, or seemed to hear, 
Was ever Uke in human story, 

One singing far beyond the stars, 

One singing to me, ''Annie Laurie!" 



140 



ENVIRONMENT 

A PANSY blossom, in a field of grain, 
Which yielded to the eater daily bread 
And the young ravens stilled and comforted, 
Gave seed unto the sower on the plain, 
And in the market-place laid gain to gain, 
Yet while the hungry soil and men were fed, 
The heart of the wild pansy blossom bled 
And agonized and died, alas, in vain; — 
A purple splendor circled round and round 
With flesh and toil and avarice and greed, 

Heart of Gold, all self-consumed at last, 

1 cannot tell thee why thou here art found ; 
I cannot tell why hunger is and need, 

The lot, I know, it is not ours to cast. 



141 



HOLY INNOCENTS 

'T^IS finished, the enraptured breezes stir 
1 With hovering angels, while each swaying 
bough 
A censer seems, with frankincense and m^^rrh 
Soothing the night. The Orient Kings but now. 
Forewarned of God, return another way : 
In the deep hollow of His hand all things, 
Grown strangely still, await the Heaven-born day 
Of peace on earth — when lo, a cry! that stings 
The brooding silences like thrust of steel, 
A Voice, God! in Rama. Even so 
That all might be fulfilled; — One woman's weal 
Is ever purchased with another's woe. 



142 



THE RETURN 

NAY, but I will arise and go 
Unto my Father, and will say, 

Father, in the endless realm 
Of Books, I went astray. 

My days in reading riotous 

1 passed, and fain had filled my head 
With the last word of science. Lord, 
No matter wheresoe'er it led. 

To quench my still increasing thirst. 
To ever- widening streams I went. 
Tracing their source, I lost my way. 
Night came apace, my faith was spent : 
And it was my inheritance. 
In breast milk it was yielded me. 
For it this blood now in my veins 
Leaped to be spilled in ecstasy. 
I am not worthy of a place. 
Father, in Thy house. Now I know 
Obedience to be its base 
And pinnacle; and, though I go 
From earth to sky, from seed to star, 
From drop of dew to central sun, 
There art Thou, in this primal law, — 
God is where'er His will is done. 
143 



THE RETURN - 

Hence, my Father, unto me, 

A famished prodigal, assign 

Even an hireling's place until 

Thy will is mine, and I am Thine. 

At home in Thy wide universe, 

My fire by night, my cloud by day, 

This fiat, — in obedience 

Find thou the truth, the life, the way. 



i 



144 



A WOMAN'S LITANY 

GOD, the Father, name Supreme, 
Guard young maidens while they dream 
Lest, awaking, they blaspheme. 
Hear us Holy Father. 

God, the Son, of Mary born. 
Teach all women, tra vail- worn , 
Love's true symbol is a thorn. 
Hear us, Holy Jesu. 

Holy Ghost, that increate, 
Didst brood upon the waters great, 
Like Thee, may we only — ^wait. 
Hear us. Holy Spirit. 

Ever blessed Trinity, 
Three in One, and One in Three, 
Maid, and wife, and matron, we 
Pray Thee, hear our Litany. 

10 



145 



RETROSPECT 

1AM strong now and sane, 
Was it less than inane 
To consume candle flame 
At so sorry a game? 

We reap what was sown 
And we sow the unknown — 
How wise we have grown 
With our hearts turned to stone. 

Never heed, by and by 

We shall both of us die ^ 

And our secret shall pass - ^ 

Into daisies and grass. 

The 'vyhite slab shall tell 

How " God doeth all well, " 

And to none 'twill appear 

That we perished last year ! 'j 



146 



TRAGEDY 

A THISTLE purple, passionate 
Wooed a Daisy delicate, 
A girl tore her petals, one by one 
And he went white from sun to sun! 



147 



" COMPLIRE " 

THE blurred horizon rim 
Grows dimmer and more dim 
Till blotted out. Alack, 
The floor of Heaven is black. 
Yet when the day went right 
I loved thee, listening Night, — 
Thy stillness and thy stars, 
Thy dews and fragranc}^ 
Our Lady of the Moon 
Her pilgrim tides that soon 
Or late, are lost at sea ; 
The wistful murmuring of the trees 
The wonder of the Pleiades 
All were my simple fee 
A radiant time that was 
But never more can be. 
A cloud no bigger than his hand 
Has hidden sea and sky and land 
My love has fled and left me but the dark, 
The aching dark that to my heart shall hark 
O Night, I know the eclipsing hour 
Our passion flower 
Began to pale, — 
'Twas at his first cold glance 
When with a mind askance 

He hastened to depart 

148 



"COMPLIRE" 

A student friend did ail, 
Oh, let me not recall 
Each subterfuge and art, 
His failures at the sunset tryst 
For ''duty*' his new-forged regard 
His feigned despair of ''worthiness" 
His counterfeited gloom and stress — 
So far, so deep he had to fall 
My temple's veil to rive 
And Oh, desire dies hard 
So long it took to teach my heart 
Men may be traitors and yet live, 
Nay, thrive in the impartial sun 
That warms a Judas and a Christ 
And punishes not one. 

'Till now what had been space and time to me 
But Love's environ and Love's opportunity^ 
What need have I of either, wanting Love 
And what, I ask, of a child's God above, 
With : — Now I lay me down to sleep 
I pray the Lord my eyes to keep 
From tears, for Jesus' sake — ■ 
To whom then shall I make 
My cry? The heavens spin and I reel. 
Dear God, another God reveal 
To whom, Oh teach me how to pray 
Prayers I need never more unsay — 
Kind Shepherd Night, a stricken sheep 
Begs entrance to the fold of Sleep. 

149 



MY EPITAPH 

EARTH asked for bread of me, alone, 
I fled, and left with it, this stone. 
Or this: 
The daisies once were neath my feet, 
And now they are above my head, 
Read in their faces brave and sweet. 
Better than grave-stone evqr said. 



150 



AFTER HEINE 

THOU'RT like unto a lily 
So pure thou art and fair, 
I look on thee with yearning 
Then bow my heart in prayer, 

Beseeching God who made thee 

So like a flower to be, 
So like a flower to keep thee, 

To all eternity. 



151 



II 



TO A RECLAIMED SOFA 

LATE an old and tattered thing 
It would seem you'd had your fling, 
But not so ; 
YouVe embraced our family 
For full a century 
And I know ! 

Not couch of gentle fame 
Sung for the Olney Dame 

Was more staid Mi 

Than you of lion paw ^^ 

Adorned with wing and claw 

Nobly made. 

A Covenanting branch 

Of the church, my people stanch, 

With regret 
A superfluity 
Of knottiness I see 

In them yet. 

Still they've softened since the time, 
A Papist in his prime 

And "His Grace" 
152 



TO A RECLAIMED SOFA 

Asked a kirk-born lass to be 
His wife, when promptly she 
Marred his face — 

A Grandmama of mine, 
She wedded a divine ! 

Her great-great 
Of bold and girded loin 
Intrepid at the Boyne 

Met his fate. 

But Sabbaths long and schisms 
And Shorter Catechisms 

And the Law 
Have ceased to terrorize, 
What do they symbolize 

Wing and claw ? 

That the lion and the dove, 
Shall lie down and wondrous love 

Fill the air 
When war no more is learned 
And by no man, no man spurned 

Anywhere. 

What ! Clawf oot preaching peace 
With strife and hate's surcease 

Near and far ! 
When my grandsires' sermons strong 
(Not so broad as they were long) 

Were all War ! 
153 



A BIRTHDAY WISH 

HOWEVER fond, however dear, 
True friends address you, 
No wish, I know, is more sincere 
Than my "God bless you." 



154 



A DUKE'S A DUKE FOR A' THAT 

KEEP watch and ward, McAllister, 
O'er thine unbroken line, 
For Marlborough deducted one 
Which left then ninety-nine, 
But Sutherland is on our shores. 
The awful gap to fill 
Pro tern; take heart, the country's safe 
We'll have four hundred still. 



155 



THE AMERICAN GIRL'S APPEAL 

AM I ^Triscilla, " of the bard, 
For *' Miles" pursued? 
Or apple-paring ''Huldah, " who 

By ''Zeke" was wooed? 
Or the intrepid warrior maid, 

With fire-arms 
More thoroughly acquainted, than 

With hymns and psalms ? 
Am I the poor and petty thing 

That Howells makes me, 
The stone that sharpens up the wit 

Of him that takes me ? j 

Or am I Mary Wilkins' kind. 

Bilious, inane, 
All conscience and self -consciousness, 

Never quite sane? 
Am I the Anglo-Yankee prig 

Of Mrs. Ward? 
Does she or does she not portray 

Quite by the card? H 

Tell me I'm each or all of these; - 

My faults unfurl 
To every breeze; but am I, pray, 

The Gibson girl? 
156 



« 



i J 



THE AMERICAN GIRL^S APPEAL 

Am I the worldling he depicts, 

The *' up-to-date,'' 
Self-seeking, mercenary, shrewd, 

A thing to hate? 
My sweet girl cousins 'cross the sea 

Du Maurier drew, 
And every one adores, while I — 

What can I do? 
'Tis Punch's dowager gets off 

The naughtiness, 
But I am made to voice it. Oh, 

Have I redress? 
What knight will to the rescue, who 

Will speak me fair. 
And on his heart and pencil my 

True colors wear? 



157 



AT THE DOOR 

TELL me before you go — 
You really do not know? 
He. I really don't. 
She. Absurd! 

He. I don't, upon my word! 
She. We've been engaged a week — 

No, no, please let me speak. 
He. But, dear, I take it back. 
She. You interrupt me. Jack. 

We've been engaged a week — 

Don't try to look so meek — 

And you really cannot say 

If my eyes are black or gray? 
He. Love, my land of promise lies 

In the rainbow of your eyes ! 

They're red, dear, when you weep 

Beneath their lashes' sweep, 

And blue as summer seas, 

When all goes as you please; 

And tawny when you're vexed, 

And violet when perplexed, 

And I've seen them green, you know, 
when^ — 
She. Good night, sir, you may go! 

158 



i 



I 



ii 



AN EPITAPH 

DEAD in the churchyard, where 'twas born, 
doth lie 
My Calvinistic creed. Mark, passer-by, 
That it came home to die. 

Nor brief nor barren was its earthly day. 
The Lord gave, and — are we not taught to 
say? — 
The Lord hath taken away. 



159 



\ 



IN THE LANE 

WHAT is so fair as a lane in June, 
A leaf}^ mystic, lovely lane, 
When the joyous birds are all atune 
And dreamy shadows wax and wane ? 

But all of beauty was not there 

Until she wandered down alone — 
A gleam of sun aslant her hair — 

My best girl, but not yet my own. 

In the leafy shade that afternoon 1 ; 

I breathed my humble heartfelt prayer. 
What is so dark as a lane in June 

When *'No" is softly answered there? 



1 60 



THE THREE GRACES 

FAITH is a budding maiden, 
Ecstatic, cloistered, wan. 
Hope is an ancient spinster 

That still believes in man ; 
But Charity's a mother. 
And all her geese are swan ! 



II 



i6i 



QUESTIONINGS 

AFTER WORDSWORTH 

1MET a little cottage girl 
Eighteen years old, she said, 
Her brain was tired with the whirl 
Of questions in her head. 

She asked me: ' * What's an ' optimist ' ? ' 
''Good luck made flesh!" I cried. 

''And what, then, is a pessimist?" 
"Bad luck personified ! ' ' 

With that she asked me to explain 

A Christian scientist. 
Said I: "He's one who cures a pain 

That doesn't quite exist." 

"And what is an agnostic, pray?" 
"Sweetheart, 'I do not know.' " 

She turned her pretty head away — 
"To Vassar I must go!" 

"Please don't, until you've answered me 
One question — you've asked four" — 

"My little wife, dear, will you be? 
I ask for love, not lore!" 
162 



QUESTIONINGS 

Five years ago to-night, my eyes! 

I hear a sweet voice croon 
A lullaby, while Tommy cries, 

*'But what is in the moon?'' 



163 



THE RETORT COURTEOUS 

ONCE on the mart, proud Poverty 
Met strutting Affluence, 
And bowed him to the very ground 
In mocking deference. 

''Why dost thou bow so low, " sneered Wealth, 

' ' Thy head is at thy feet ''] 
''From force of habit, " Want replied; 

" I strive to make ends meet." 



164 



JL _ 



THE LONDON TIMES 

OH, red rag to the Irish bull, 
Great thunderer, 
How came you to be such a dull 

Old blunderer? 
None but the donkey, daft and droll, 

Feeds on thistles , 
None other would have swallowed whole 
Those epistles! 



165 



THE WISHING GATE VISITED 

BY A PESSIMIST 

1 OFTEN wish my ancestors 
Had died while they were teething, 
Or that they hadn't given themselves 

The trouble of bequeathing 
The gift of life to me, for which 

I own I hardly thank them, 
Nor 'mong the benefactors of 

Their race can scarcely rank them. 

I often wish I had remained 

In the heaven of the poet, 
Which **lies around" our infancy, t 

Tho' only Words worths know it. ^ 

I often wish that I were now | 

Safe in the Heaven of Heavens, 

-? 

The ''Choir Invisible, '' as sung | 

By Mrs. Marion Evans. { 

I often wish I had been born 

An ignorant Zulu, 
Or in some sweet and dreamy land 

A Khan in Xanadu. 
i66 



THE WISHING GATE VISITED 

I often wish I didn't wish 

As often as I do, 
I wish and wish, and wish and wish, 

I wish the whole day through. 

If only wishes horses were, 

Oh, what a stud I'd keep! 
With steeds of morn to prance upon, 

And nightmares in my sleep. 
But I should die of ennui then, 

'Tis my fee and my entail, 
Oh, when shall I be satisfied? 

When shall desire fail? 



167 



f 



II 



A SOCIALIST 

SHE sews for a mantua-maker, 
A little hump-backed maid, 
Day in, day out, she is overworked 
And grievously underpaid. 

But she knows there's a God in heaven 

For proof is at no loss : — 
He marred His own handiwork, in her. 

And gave His Son to the Cross. 

Could she but meet with the wounded Christ 
When the glare of day grows dim. 

How she would pray His pity on her 
And pour her pity on Him. 



i68 



II 



THE THISTLE 

THE man's prodigious vanities 
Surpassed the ancient Pharisee's 
Supremest notch. 
He summed up in a single word 
His benefits, and thanked the Lord 
That made him Scotch. 

A bitter controversiahst, 

His gall-dipped arrows never missed 

Or foe, or friend. 
He loved dispute, courted a schism, 
And had the Shorter Catechism 

At his tongue's end. 

He, for the love of God, could hate 
With a revenge insatiate, 

And found deep peace 
In thinking of the woes reserved 
For those who from the ''doctrine" swerved, 

When time should cease. 

Thus was he in his youth, untried: 
To-day so is he typified, — 
Though old and sere — 
169 



1 



THE THISTLE 

By that ''burr blossom*' keen, then bland, 
The symbol of his native land, 
The '' thistle dear." 

The thistle, bristling in the spring, 
Unlovely, rough and harsh, a thing 

To shun and fear; 
In vSummer, purple, passionate, 
Hurting remorselessly as fate, 

Holding none near. 

But mark the flower when its race 
Is closing, miracle of grace ! 

An aureole, 
Self-luminous and sweet, behold 
From out that tenement unfold 

The thistle's soul. 

E'en so my old-time worthy friend 
Has stacked his guns, as near its end 

Draws the sad strife. 
Faith means no more theology ; 
Nor hope, self-love; and charity 

Rules all his life. 

His silver locks are like a crown 

Of thorns changed into thistle-down. 

A tender grace, 
Like moonlight on a tranquil sea, w 

Whose storms have long since ceased to be. 

Shines in his face. 
170 



A SONG 

A DAY seems like a month, my boy 
The month a year, I ween, 
Gin ye be waitin' on the joy 
O' wedding thy sweet queen. 

Sae lang, sae lang, ye ha' to earn. 
But, man, ye needna' rue. 

Ye ha' the longer time to learn 
How to be leal and true. 

The years will soon gae swift and ill, 

O, wait na till they're few 
And ye be gangin' down the hill 

To then be leal and true. 



171 



A VALENTINE 

THE day is coming, Favorite mine 
When I may choose a Valentine, 
And all to you, to you alone 
Sub rosa, I shall make it known, 
Just what I want in mind and heart. 
To play that role, act out that part, 
And just to meet thy heart's dear plan. 
He must be just — a gentleman, 
Nor more nor less in his soul's soul, 
If he'd stand first in my bead role; 
And he must have a wit like wine 
Intoxicating, sweet, and fine. 

And he must sing in such a tone. 
Shall make each loving heart his own ; 
Then he must read the best of books 
And sermons see in stones and brooks, 
And he must grave or pla^^ful be, 
As suited, to my mood, you see! 
Nor rich nor poor in pounds and pence, 
But have a goodly competence. 
Be proud and generous and true. 
In fine, he must be just like You. 



172 



THROUGH LIFE 

WHAT is it softens down the flail's rude 
blow? 
The lightsome chaff. 
What is it helps the sad, sad, world to go? 
The joyous laugh. 



173 



BLISS 

HE was a little Negro 
And sat upon the fence, 
He hadn't any father 

Nor any mother, hence 
He was a little orphan 
And hadn't any sense. 

He thought the earth a circle. 

But flat as any floor; 
Was sure it scarce extended 

Beyond the river shore. 
And thought the stream the Jordan 

Which Israel passed o'er. 

He knew the sun at twilight 

Just put himself to bed 
Underneath a coverlet 

Of purple, blue, and red; 
Except on stormy evenings 

When he used black instead. 

He b'lieved the stars in heaven 
Were blessed angels' eyes 
174 



J 



BLIvSS 

''A peepin* froo the openings 
Ter see who steals the pies" — 

At least, so said his auntie, 
And she was very wise. 

And then he thought his conscience 
The throbbing 'neath his ribs 

That beat so fast and loudly 
Whenever he told fibs, 

Which was often, each one prefaced 
By "True as eber yer libs ! " 

And he was sure Elijah 

Would come for him some night , 
And take him in a chariot 

All glorious with light. 
To a sweet and happy country 

Where everyone was white ! 

He was a little Negro 

And sunned him on the fence, 
He hadn't any knowledge . 

Nor any money, hence 
He was supremely happy — 

Each has his recompense ! 



175 



B " OR NO "B"— THAT'S THE QUESTION 



I 



REALLY think my sister May 

Is stupider than me; 
Because she said the other day 

There wasn't any ''b" 
In honey-comb, and spelt it just 

"C-doubleo-m-e!" 
Of course she's wrong. I told her so; 

There's got to be a ''bee" 
Somewhere in honey-comb, because 

He makes it, don't you see! 



176 



Ji 



JACK WRITES TO HIS BROTHER 

T HASTEN to inform you, Will, 

1 The fact may not be true — next week, 

That I'm engaged to Bessie. Still 

I'm not quite certain; so to speak 
We're harnessed — if we ever go 

Is quite another thing, you know! 

We're all riglit up to date, old chap; 

But Bess is such a summer sky 
All sunshine or all thunder clap, 

I never know but each good-b}^ 
May be the last. There's many a miss 

Between the mustache and the kiss. 

I wonder if all girls are so. 

Did Mother act like that, egad! 

And if she did, I only know 

'Twas a great pity of poor Dad, 

He must have been a world more meek 
In those days than he is — this week ! 

I think I never lived before; 

She is my conscience and my creed, 

12 177 



JACK WRITES TO HIS BROTHER 

And she is mine to still adore 
As I am hers in word and deed — 

If not all up when you get back 
You'll be my best man, won't you? 

Jack, 



178 



AN EPITAPH 

ASLEEP upon the breast of earth 
This Httle headstone under, 
Lies one who scarce survived his birth 
Nine days, his name was Wonder! 



179 



THE CAT AND THE FIDDLE— LIKEWISE 
THE BOW 

TWAS only a Darkey's Fiddle 
Only a Darkey's Bow, 
But that isn't any reason 

Why they should fight, you know. 

Perhaps a Stradivarius 

Or an Amati could 
Show vastly better manners 

But I question if they would — 

*'It is I that makes the music, " 

The Violin declares, 
**Bear that in mind, you silly Bow 

And don't put on such airs!" 

"Oh, it's you that makes the music, " 

Cries the indignant Bow, 
*'It's you, you empty-headed flat, I 

Since when, I'd like to know." 

*' Since when? Good gracious! from the first, 

'Twas all that you could do i 

To scrape a living by my aid, ; 

You hair-brained booby, you!" j 

i8o "^ ' 



THE CAT AND THE FIDDLE 

Matters from this grew worse and worse, 
From words to blows they fell, 

And what the upshot might have been 
Is very hard to tell. 

Had not the Cat, who'd heard it all, 

Leaped to the mantel piece 
To separate the irate pair 

And bid their brawlings cease. 

'Twas quite the other way around, 

She angered them the more, 
And soon the Fiddle, Cat, and Bow 

Lay sprav/ling on the floor! 

Lay sprawling on the floor (but that 

Has been remarked before) 
All broken up, even the Cat 

To speak in metaphor — 

With this did Pomp, that good old man. 

Come home as was his w^ay 
When, as Gray says, ''The curfew tolled 

The knell of parting day.'* 

He saw! and cried, ''This yere's de Cat, 

The triflin' nigger Sneak," 
Then stooped to gather up the chips 

While tears ran down his cheek. 
i8i 



THE CAT AND THE FIDDLE 

Never — as Wordsworth says — ''did he 

Pick up a single stone" 
To hurl at the retreating Cat 

But added with a moan: 

**I never ain't had any fun 
And dere ain't none ahead. 

Glad folks am dem that am asleep — 
Dis chile will go to bed/' 

Moral 

This Fable teaches several things : 
When wretched get to sleep, 

Keep out of family quarrelings, 
And look before you leap ! 



182 



_!_ J 



THE RETORT POSITIVE 

THE voice of one crying from Maine , 
''Trusts are private affairs, I maintain 
But the people said, ''So 
Is the ballot, you know, 
A private affair, Mister Blaine," 



183 



RECKONING 

''le jeu n'en vaut pas la chandelle." 

BUT who has the game, if you please! 
Ned throws over Maude for EUse 
But dies ere he ever is wed 
(Of heart compUcations, 'tis said). 
Maude marries, but starves on a flat; 
Ehse Uves alone with her cat, 
And the candle is spent — all the same; 
Will you tell me, please, who has the game? 



184 



TOMMY SEES A METEOR 

GOD threw a star away, last night, 
Yes, I saw Him do it, 
For I was lying wide awake 
The minute that He threw it. 

It went like lightning 'cross the sky. 

The singular est thing, 
And looked, it did, exactly like 

'Twas fired from a sling. 

I jumped right up and called to Ted 

To come and see it fall, 
But he is such a sleepy-he^d, 

He didn't care, at alL 

I really wonder where it went ; 

Why, just as like as not, 
'Way to the end of the Rainbow 

And fell into the Pot ! 



1^5 



H 



I 



THE SERMON 



|! 

FAITH was the subject matter and ! [^ 

The hero Abraham, 
How he had offered up his son 

As sacrificial lamb 
But for the timely presence of 
An inoffensive ram. 

All were enjoined to have such faith 

As Father Abraham had : 
To gather sticks and lay the fire 

And even to be glad 
To hold and bind for sacrifice 

Some sinless little lad. 

For lo ! — and such dramatic verve — 

Caught in the thicket, see 
The scapegoat in sheep's covering, 

There through no jugglery 
But doomed, pre-doomed since time began « 

A sufferer to be. f ^ 

Follows the peroration fine — 

God will Himself repay, 

i86 



THE SERMON 

Himself provide the victim, and 
The murdered — ''Let us pray." 

The benediction spoken, each 
Went on his homeward way. 

The preacher was a Calvinist 
And Abraham was a Jew, 

The Hsteners were Orthodox 
In every shade and hue, 

But the ram was an Agnostic — 
As I had been, or you. 



187 



A "REVISED" NURSERY RHYxME 



DING, dong, bell, 
Baby's out of H-11 
Who put him in? 
John Cal-vin. 
What took him out? 
The D. D.'s doubt. 



II 



1 88 



IN CHURCH 



1 WATCH the worshippers who come 
And softly take their places 
And only bury in their hands 
Their grave and humble faces. 

I see the sunlight streaming through 
The panes, where meekly turning 

Their eyes to heaven, the pictured saints 
The martyr's crown are earning. 

I hear the preacher's solemn voice, 

The organ's sweet vibration, 
The words of psalmist and of sage, 

I offer my oblation. 

And then I hear the hymn, O God! 

They cry as they were stranded 
Upon the Rock of Ages, not 

As they were safely landed . 

And all schemes seem inadequate 

And all prayers unavailing 
To meet the need of hearts that break 

Into such hopeless wailing. 
189 



IN CHURCH 

It sounds an echo, far above 

The empty words that follow, 
And makes the preacher's soft low voice 

Seem meaningless and hollow. 

And long he talks in worn-out phrase 

Of old religious platitude, 
And for that he and his are *' saved, " 

Is filled with deepest gratitude — 

Great God in Heaven! I'd rather plunge 
Down in the deep of bitterest fountain 

For some forgotten soul, than land 

"Saved, " Noah-like, on highest mountain, 

I worship not their God, my soul 

Breaks through their creeds' poor tissue, 

Nor cowers in servile craven fear, 
But waits with God the issue. 

Deep under all, high over all 

I only hear the Master — 
*'Come unto me" — in joy or pain 

In victory or disaster, 

"Come unto me"— To Thee, Christ, 
To neither church nor preacher. 

Set up Thy Temple in my heart, 
Be Thou my only Teacher! 



190 



1 



TRUE 

THERE always will be pretty girls 
In every age and every clime 
With raven eye and auburn curls 
All powerful — for a time ! 

There alwa^^s will be foolish boys 
Of ever>" land and every tongue 

Who'll love and love the pretty toys 
To madness — while they're young ! 

There always will be broken hearts 

And lovers' moans and shattered ties- 
Till girls are made with other arts, 
And boys with other eyes ! 



191 




HIGH LIFE 

SHE gave an announcement parly 
'Twas nothing if not bizarre, 
Congratulations were hearty, 
The supper was by Pinard, 
The decorations by Kendee, 
The directoire frock by Worth — 
I say is it any wonder 
A girl should ask for the earth 
After that from her intended? 
She did and then came the cra^h 
The brilliant engagement ended 
As it began — in a mash ! 



192 



TO BOB 

A LEAP-YEAR VALENTINE 

ROBERT, wealthiest friend of mine, 
My soul doth crave no gold but thine, 
So by the following list, I pray 
Thou'lt swear thy very heart away. 
O unto me thine ear incline 
And yield thee with a will supine 
To be — oh ! be my Valentine ! 

By th}^ patent leather's shine. 
By thy crush hat's br older ed sign, 
By thy pretty pendant fob, 
By thy ample foot so knob. 
By thy waltzing so divine, 
By thy lisp and drawl and whine, 
B-o-b, my Valentine! 

By thy long ancestral line 

So long thine enemies and mine — 

Say 'tis endless, swaying still 

A clothes-line from a window-sill. 

By that labored wit of thine 

Broader at the point than fine, 

B-o-b, my Valentine! 

13 193 



TO BOB 

By the many hearts that pine 
For that catholic love of thine, 
That worships at each Virgin's shrine 
B-o-b, my Valentine! 



194 



LINES ON AN AUTHORESS 

THERE was a young lady of letters, 
Who got far more fame than her betters; 
For every one read 

"The Quick and the Dead " 
By this cyclonic lady of letters. 



195 



ST. VALENTINE'S EVE 
(in imitation of keats) 

ST. VALENTINE'S Eve— A chilly night ! 
Yet did the brave young Mortimer get left 
No more than Keats 's doughty Porphyro, 

Who bolts and bars and gates asunder cleft ; 
For Mortimer was mashed on one whose name 
Was also Madeline, tho' easier game! 

St. Valentine's Eve he called on her, 
Full of sweet glee was lovely Madeline, 

For she had found, where long it had lain hid 
In an old vase, a little valentine 

Sent by her now bald-headed, dear papa 

In childhood to her beautiful mama. 

They linger in an ecstasy of mirth 
Upon its quaint and rare emblazonry, 

Hearts gules there were, and flying arrows d'or, 
And, underneath, this legend bold they see : 

The Rose is red, is red, the Violet blue, 

Sugar is sweet, is sweet, and so are you! 

196 



ST. VALENTINE'S EVE 

Next day, oh, dearest in the calendar! 

Did Mortimer to lovely Madeline 
Send box de luxe of Huyler's delicates, 

The candied leaves of rose and violet fine, 
With this: The Rose is red, the Violet blue; 
Sugar is sweet, is sweet, and so are You ! 

And underneath, writ with a trembling hand, 
These words : In after years, Gentle Maid ! 

If you should find this little valentine 
Hid in some vase of porphyry or jade, 

And to your husband show it, in sweet glee — 

Whisper your answer. Love — may I be he ? 



197 



AN IMAGINARY EPISTLE TO LANDOR 

" Wordsworth has now written a poem ('Laodamia') 
which might be fitly read in Elysium, and the gods and 
heroes gather round to listen." 

Walter Savage Landor. 

'' \ X 7ITH sacrifice (of sleep) till rising morn" 
V V Could I, dear Landor, by your words 
inspired, 
"Laodamia, " — To the shades forlorn 
To *'Gods and Heroes" let it be retired! 
Why Hamlet isn't in it for a fact, 
His father's ghost, at least, remained intact! 

Fancy a widow in her mourning clad, 

Forth springing her dear husband's wraith to 

clasp, 
''When insubstantial form eludes her grasp. " 
But fancy how she must have gone half mad 
To see, as often as she would embrace 
''The phantom part but part to reunite 
And reassume its place before her sight!" 
Small marvel that — she shrieked and hid her face 
And on the palace floor fell down quite flat, 
Ghosts shouldn't take themselves apart like that ! 

198 



IMAGINARY EPISTLE TO LANDOR 

And note Protesilaus, the old prig: 
*'I am not sent to scare thee or deceive" — 
How could he talk so in that ghastly rig? 
How could he, laughing in his phantom sleeve, 
Declare that also to his worth was due 
The *'boon" of this distracting interview? 

And mark Laodamia's slang, dear Wat. 

It's really not aufait, you know, for one, 

A Lady and a Classic and what not, 

To say, *'Come, 'blooming* hero, sit thee 

down/' 
Waving the deed's impossibility, 
The epithet it is that startles me ! 

Still, I don't hold too closely by the book, ^ 
But spectres shouldn't poach in quick preserves. 
And theft osculatory in a spook 
That self-dissecting gets upon the nerves; 
Heroes and Gods may like such bric-a-brac. 
But living lips for me. 

Yours truly, 

Jack. 



199 



THE REASON 



' * /^^ H ! I know now ' ' — 'twas Tommy spoke- 
^^^ * ' Why Lady's Slippers grow ; 

Because sometimes the Brownie folk 
Are naughty, don't you know? " 



200 



AT THE SIGN OF THE THREE BALLS 

AH, what a hostelry is this, 
And what a cheerless Boniface ! 
No bluff and hearty welcome his 

Who enters here. 
But every guest departing hence, 
No matter where he goes, or whence 
He came, must leave as recompense 
Some souvenir. 

But stranger even than the place, 
Quitting and entering apace, 
Behold the pilgrims, mark each face, 

A motley throng. 
Footsore and travel-stained, they wear 
Abandon of a mad despair, 
Or stigma of excess, or air 

Of shame and wrong. 

But what refreshment may there be. 
For him who enters ? How may he 
Here slake his thirst? — Ah, we shall see. 
Mine host appears. 

201 



AT THE SIGN OF THE THREE BALLS 

Alas, methinks that sorrow's bread, 
Sinking into the soul like lead, 
Is the sad food with which he's fed; 
His drink is tears! 



202 



1 



GRANDFATHER AND CHILD 
Child 

*'\\ That are the wild waves saying, 
V V Grandpa, the whole day long, 

That ever amid our playing 

I hear but their wild, wild song?" 

Grandfather 

''Oh, child, I hear no singing, 

'Tis but the distant roar 
That sounds from the bargain counter 

Of our benefactor's store." 

Child 

"No, no, it is something greater 
That speaks to the heart alone; 

The voice of the Wanamaker 
Sounds in their money-tone." 



203 



WHIP-POOR-WILL AND KATY-DID 

T WONDER what did Willy do 
1 That he should be chastised, 
That he got Katy in it too 
Tm not at all surprised. 

For Willys have a winning way 

And Katys' hearts are kind 
And rather plastic, I must say, 

And spoony as you'll find. 

Birds of a plumage, it is said, 

Will always flock together, 
And Kate and Will, Fm much afraid, 

Were really of one feather. 

The birds and insects know it all, 

And nightly in the trees — 
Especially in early fall — 

They watch such flirts as these. 

Of course, they know it all, for woods 

Are very favorite spots 
For boys and girls in lover-moods 

For vows and sighs and knots. 
204 



WHIP-POOR-WILL AND KATY-DID 

Not knots in wood but wooed, my Love, 

Excuse the parallaxing — 
One for asking is undone 

The other for the axings ! 

Did Willy come a handsome flirt 

And play the lover's part 
And did Kate listen to the hurt 

Of her poor little heart ? 

Or was she sure a naughty girl 

And did she lead him on 
With her soft hand only to hurl 

To him, with Tom and John, 

And Gus and Fred, her little mit? 

*'She didn't," many say, 
Which gives her then the benefit 

Of doubt unto this day. 

And yet they say poor Will, which shows 

He was not all to blame, 
Altho' his fault should merit blows. 

Publicity, and shame. 

Was it the first time Willy slipped ? — 

He'll never do it again, 
Kate was so sweet, let him be whipped 

With a big sugar cane. 
205 



WHIP-POOR-WILL AND KATY-DID 

But if he was a veteran flirt 
That came all tall and dashing 

Poor Katy's maiden heart to hurt, 
Then give him a sound thrashing . 

Until he learn, in direst need, 

To conjugate aright, 
*' Imperfect" plighting can but lead 

Into the '* present" plight. 



206 



THE TRUTH ABOUT POLLY 

IT'S "Polly, put the kettle on, " 

1 And "Polly, close the door,'* 
And "Polly, wash the dishes up," 
And "Polly, sweep the floor." 

And " Polly "—till Tm sick of it, 

I'm almost never done, 
And folks think all IVe got to do 

Is "put the kettle on." 

And Miss Kate Greenaway who made 

The pretty picture books 
Dressed me up quaint and queer, but it's 

The feelin's not "de luxe!" 

For things ain't any different, 
Since I've had my likeness took. 

For I'm scapegoat in the kitchen 
If I'm landscape in the book, 

So I dare say I'll continue, 

Drawing endless cups of tea, 
While eyes are made for seeing 

Only what they want to see ! 



207 



THE HIGHER EDUCATION OF WOMEN 

**More young women went to college from the city of 
Brooklyn during the year last past than young men."- 

Educational Statistics, 

''W THERE are you going, my pretty maid ? " 
V V *' Tm going to Vassar, sir, " she said. 

*'May I go with you, my pretty maid? 
I never have been at college, '' he said. 



Then I can't marry you, I'm afraid." 
Nobody asked you, Miss," he said. 



208 



AS TO JOSEPH CHAMBERLAIN 

HE never came an angling, 
But to settle up a wrangling 
And depart; 
But one of Salem's daughters, 
Like the angel, stirred the waters 
Of his heart. 

Who would not be a lover, 
A millionaire twice over, 

And M. P.? 
But as fair as of his choosing 
Are the fish that still are musing 

In the sea. 



14 209 



THE RECKONING 
*/the game isn't worth the candle 

SHE is old and wrinkled and thin, 
Gray and. as blind as a bat, 
All bent like the crookedest pin, 
Poor and a spinster at that, 
But each night when she goes to rest 
In her room beneath the eaves. 
She tenderly opens a chest. 
And tearfully turns the leaves 
Of love letters yellow and old. 
But love letters all the same. 
That will never, never grow cold 
While she can kiss the dear name 
Writ bold at the end, by a hand. 
That could let hers go, to play 
With another, more nice planned, — 
But who has the game? I say. 
The candle, see, burns to a dot. 
He died in a brawl in the street. 
The other girl married a sot — 
And who has the game? I repeat. 



2IO 



A GRANDMOTHER'S STORY 

GOD bless this great America, 
In basket and in store, 
But you've your native heath, my bairns, 
Upon another shore. 

And not in princely palaces 

Your people had their birth. 
But in the straw-thatched cottages 

On the green slopes of Perth. 

'Twas there that Knox, the Thunderer, 
Made his great doctrine known ; 

That the right of private judgment 
Means man's right to hold his own. 

But forth came one in priestly garb 

Upon the stirring scene, 
To say the masses of his church 

With sanction of the queen. 

He set his altar in the kirk, 

His images and dips. 
When from the sacred edifice 

A little laddie slips. 

211 



A GRANDMOTHER'S STORY 

And hurls a stone with all hi^ might 

And sure aim at the priest, 
Crying, ''Awa' with idols vain; 

Awa' with idols, beast!" 

Then fell the papist hireling 
Upon that thoughtless child; . 

The fight was on, the factions met, 
The little town went wild. 

You'll read in all your history books 

The rioting at Perth, 
Set on by that wee Protestant 

From whom you have your birth. 

They called him David, bairnies mine, 

Like his namesake of old ; 
His only weapon was a stone, 

'Gainst error mad and bold. 

Aye mind from him we have our line. 

We in this far-oflf land, 
But every ground is sacred ground 

Whereon the faithful stand. 

And when you say your prayers at night, 

Ask at the Throne of Grace 
"God of our fathers be the God 

Of their succeeding race." 

212 



A GRANDMOTHER'S STORY 

And bless His name for this our day, 
When creeds no stone may cast, 

Nor any claim the only way 
That leads to Him at last, 

God bless your great America, 

In basket and in store ; 
Your comings in and goings out . 

My bairns, forever more. 



213 



TO GORDON PRYOR RICE: WITH A COPY 
OF THE RUBAIYAT 

THE pleasures of the vine, alas ! 
But sung with such consummate art, 
That clergy and girl graduate 
. Have got the deathless song by heart. 



214 



M 



K.C. OF C.C. 

Y dear one when she was alive with the 
rest 

I held her the dearest and loved her the best, " 
But now that each morning and evening breeze 

stirs 
O'er her grave, thou art mine, love, because 
thou wert hers, — My Kate! 



215 



TO M. H. B.— : WITH A COPY OF 
MRS. PRYOR'S "REMINISCENCES." 

THESE will serve to recall it, 
Our life's happy morn, 
When for you and for me, dear, 
A friendship was born 
So noble, and steadfast 
And tender and true. 
That to tell the whole story 
Would take volume two ! 



2X6 



N 



BEFORE THE BURIAL 

TO M. H. B. 

W that thy days have saddened to an end , 
How did I love thee, O my friend, my 
friend ? 



I loved thee as thirst loves the water brooks , 
Or as the midnight student loves his books . 

Or as the patriot his native soil. 

Or poet the rhymed guerdon of his toil. 

I loved thee as the cloud the rainbow arc, 
Or as the listening morning loves the lark. 

Or as the cloistered nun her rosary, 
I joyed to count thy kindnesses to me. 

I loved thy faith when mine was shrouded o'er, 
Thy courage when mine ebbed at every pore . 

I loved thy footsteps coming up the stair 
That ever seemed like answer to a prayer. 

Thy laughter and thy tears were dear to me — 
Now there is neither mirth nor pain with thee. 

217 



BEFORE THE BURIAL 

Where hast thou wandered in a vast amaze, 
Since yester-noon, when parted all our ways? 

How often have I left thee at the gate — 

Nay, but I will once more, the morn — ^then wait. 

For we shall meet again, O friend, my friend. 
And love as we have loved, world without end. 



218 



IN ME MORI AM 

M. H. B. 

SHE loved to lighten up a shadowy spot, 
vShrinking from praise as others shrink 
from blame, 
But He who watches Israel, sltmibering not, 
Shall when His morning breaks tell her dear 
name. 



219 



TO HILDA 

AN old Home, an old Friend, an old Book, an 
old Shoe, 
Pray in all the worid is there anything better, 
Excepting young Love, yet that ever is new, 

Ever paying its debts, yet ever a debtor! — 
Since that can't be between us, and it can't 
forsooth, 
Here's my old, old, old Friendship , 
Sweetheart of my Youth ! 



220 



THE LEADER 



E. B. M. 



ON Pisgah's crowning summit 
Art thou content to stand 
For one supernal moment 

And view the Promised Land? 
Then hear that awful fiat — 

* ' Though thou hast fought and won, 
Unflinchingly, another 
Shall lead this people on." 

Willing? Then art thou worthy 

To guide. At Love's behest 
Where two or three are gathered 

Love's self makes good the rest. 
From that divine communion 

No Leader can depart, 
Even though dead he speaketh 

Cheer, to each loyal heart. 



221 



TO DELLIE FOR HER ALBUM 

1L0VE thee well, my little girl, 
And more than this, I cannot tell. 
Perhaps there is no more, my Pearl, — 
My, that's enough then! f are-thee-well ! 



222 



TO HENRY R. JONES, ESQ.: WITH A 
CANDLESTICK 

WHO is my neighbor? Who but he 
That spills the wine of mirth 
And oil of gladness when the world 
Observes Love's humble birth. 

I sent a little candlestick 

At the sweet Christmas time 
Not dreaming that like Aaron's rod 

'Twould blossom into rhyme ! 

But Love still stirs the fire, in 

The embers of the past 
And the dear words the Poet sang 

Shall last while I shall last. 



223 



TO H. R. JONES, ESQ'RE: WITH A 
NEW ENGLAND PRIMER 

THE breaking waves dashed high 
Upon the rocks and stones 
When a band of exiles moored their bark 

0*er haunts of Davy Jones. 
Had Davy called them down, 

Where would the world now be? 
Without a *' Primer" in its hand 
To learn its A B C! 

Then rise good men and true 

To sing the praise of Jones, 
Who spared those exiles, when he might 

E 'en now possess their bones, 
And likewise sing the praise 

Of that brave Pilgrim band 
Who straightway scattered A B C's 

B roadcast upon the land. 



224 



ICHABOD. L'ENVOI 

TO A. J. C. 

WHERE art Thou fled, beloved Guest, 
That used erstwhile to visit me 
With rich reward and high bequest, 
For my poor hospitality. 

And yet it seemed not poor, when Thou — 
Compassionate, august, benign, 

A radiant nimbus round thy brow — 
Didst by acceptance make it fine. 

I know Thee not, I could not call 

Thy name, if name indeed Thou hast, 

I know not if Thou art at all, 

Or where it chanced I saw Thee last. 

Perhaps Thou art the Mus^, indeed, 
Whom Poets of an olden time. 

Were wont to call on in their need 

When thought refused to flow in rhyme. 

Perhaps Thou art the high Ideal, 

That with those happy da^^s, has flown 

When unrealities were real, 
And Life's realities unknown. 
15 225 



ICHABOD. L'ENVOI 

Where Thou art, Thou comest no more, 
If deed of mine has driven Thee 

Away in sorrow from my door, 
Say that Thou hast forgiven me — 

And turn to look on me again, 

With those deep, Hmpid lover's eyes 

That thrilled me with ecstatic pain, 
My all suffering, only prize — 

And, Muse or Ideal of my Youth, 
I will arise and follow Thee, 

Nay, then perhaps Thou art the Truth, 
ril write my poems in my deeds. 



226 



TO M. G. L. 

O WONDERFUL, O Counsellor! 
If Thou in Galilee, 
Didst live a Man, — yet without sin. 

Marvellous Mystery, — 
Thou knowest what is human life. 

Its care and pain and grief. 
Thou knowest it all. Lord, I believe. 
Help Thou mine unbelief! 

Counsel Thou me, O Wonderful, 

Teach me of Thy pure Love, 
Does it on waiting hearts descend 

From Heaven, a Holy Dove ? 
Does it to stranded souls bring back 

The olive leaf of peace ? 
Enduring all things, hoping all, 

Till life's loud noises cease? 

Lord, I believe it hath such power. 
Help Thou mine unbelief ! 

make it mine from this good hour, 
Come Thou to my relief. 

22-] 



TO M. G. L. 

Earth's soil is on my garments, Christ, 
Earth's discords in my praise. 

Marred and unreal the work I do, 
Feeble the hands I raise. 

Human approval pleases me, 

•When I should crave but Thine, 
I prize, past telling, human love. 

Shrine me. Thou Love Divine. 
I labor looking for reward, 

And when none doth appear, 
I cry, *'Thy counsels cheated me,'' 

Self -blinded heart and sere ! 

But Love can gather harvests, where 

The Tempter's hand has sown, 
Can turn life's waters into wine, 

To bread the harvest stone. 
heaven- descended ! Wonderful! 

baptism of Love! 
The atmosphere of Thy pure house 

Breathe on my soul, O Dove! 

For I have buffeted the waves. 

Wrestled with sin and grief. 
From my dear Ararat I cry, 

Christ, send me back the leaf! 
O Wonderful, O Counsellor, 

O mighty Prince of Peace, 
The least of all Thy subjects prays — 

Bid all my passions cease ! 
228 



THE LIVING CHRIST 

TO M. L. B. 

I HAVE found Judas, with his money bags, 
Bartering away Love's very self for gold; 
And Thomas, with a tardy faith that lags 
Till it can find a fact to have and hold ; 

And Peter, who has learned a sorry knack 

Of owning Christ on Sundays, 'mid his sheep, 

But fhrough the week, upon the world's sharp 
rack, 
Denying him without the time to weep. 

But Jesus, — they have taken Him away, 
And buried Him alas! I know not where. 

Weary and heavy laden, day by day 

I make my quest and lift my heart in prayer. 

But, oh, I find Him not, I find Him not ! 

Only the grave-clothes that He left behind, 
Only His garments, where they cast the lot, 

Only the scourge, the thorns, the cross, I find. 

229 



THE LIVING CHRIST 

Where have they laid Him ? Will none hear my 
cry ? 

Night is far spent: I seek a living Christ. 
He said that He would rise again, and I 

Must hasten at the dawn to keep my tryst. 

Nay, what if it might be He lives again 

In hearts that bear the scourge, the thorns, 
the cross ! 
Arise, my soul! It shall not be in vain. 

Thy quest where sorrow bides, and hurt and 
loss. 



230 



TOM.G. L. 

THERE in the upper room she lay, 
So still and safe I thought she slept, 

Come, come away, 

To me they said, 

And softly wept 

For she is dead. 
A shadow in the upper roo m 
I move 'mid sn^dows, as they loom 
What is it seems to whisper me — 
From all earth's myriad sounds apart — 
And do I speak, or is it she, 
''Nay, which of us has died, dear Heart?'' 



231 



THE CHRISTENING 

TO CHARLOTTE 

THEY call thee what they will, dear, 
'Twere joy enough for me, 
If on thy heart of hearts, dear, 
My name might graven be. 

But that is not for me, dear, 
Such place I may not claim, 

I take what thou wilt give, dear. 
Wilt thou accept my name ? 

God knoweth all the rest, dear, 

Whatever there may be 
In all the years to come, dear, 

Of joy or pain to thee. 

But we are His, are His, dear, 

Whatever the future hide, 
Through generations all, dear. 

His mercies shall abide. 

And on the threshold now, dear. 

Be this my only prayer: — 
No word or thought of mine, dear, 

May dim the Name we share. 
232 



J 



TO ELSIE 

1AM in love, 
Deep down in love, 
And Elsie is the lass 
That brought me to this pass. 

In her pure eyes 

A heaven lies 
And all her soulful air 
Is holy like a prayer. 

She little knows 
That when she goes, 
I lead a life of praise 
Until she comes again. 

She little dreams 

Her coming seems 
The dawn that tells the day 
Is on its upward way. 

Should I reveal 

The love I feel 
She'd think it was all chaff 
And laugh a rippling laugh . 
233 



TO ELSIE 

Like a brook's sound 

In stony ground 
And like a brook at play- 
She, too, would run away. 

Oh, Lassie fleet 

Run on to meet 
The love that like a sea 
Waits even now for thee 

Not mine, not mine 

This joy divine. 
But for some chevalier 
Without reproach or fear . 

You see I can't, 

I'm Elsie's Aunt; 
Besides 'twould never do 
For she is only two ! 



234 



TO CHARLOTTE ON HER FOURT 
BIRTHDAY 

AND has the day come round again ? 
Dear Child, it seems to me 
So very brief a time ago 

That you were only three ! 
And scarcely further seems the day 

That made you two years old, 
Or one year — see upon my hand 

The sum of them is told ! 
And yet it is a better world 

For your four little years : 
They make more precious all our hopes, 

Less bitter all our tears. 
Stay with us to make glad our lives, 

May not a shadow pass 
Across the sunshine of your own — ■ 

God bless you, little Lass ! 



235 



I 



TO "BROWNIE" 



WANT you for my Valentine, 
Brownie mine, 
Through all my life and thine. 

Brownie mine, 
E'en though some day a Lover fine. 
Shall whisper, *'Be my Valentine'' 
Still, still I'll call you. Brownie mine. 
My Valentine ! 



236 



MY CHARLOTTE 

WHO never had a little Niece, 
Who never was an Aunt, 
Can he tell what day is To-day ? 
Why no, of course he can't! 

Who never loved a little Lass, 

And shared with her a name, 
Which, thro' all chance and change of life, 

Will still remain the same, 

How can he know the joy that fills — 
Pressed down and running o'er — 

My happ}^ heart, for it has come. 
The natal day, once more. 

Then here's a health, my little Girl, — 

May each and every year 
Come in new laden with new joys, 

But keep the old hearts dear ! 



237 



DAISY AND BUTTERCUP 

This story is told for the sweet, sweet sake 
Of Aunt Lottie's DarHng, Elsie Blake 

ONE day a little Daisy flower 
And yellow Buttercup 
Were sitting by the road-side hedge, 

When a big shower came up, 
The rain just loved to spatter down 

On the poor little things. 
Oh, dear, oh, dear, what shall they do? 

If only they had wings. 
Or a green silk vunbrella, 
Or if some little feller 
Would lend them his and rubbers too — 

What ever shall they do? 
Will no one come along 

And take them in? it's very wrong 
To leave them there alone. 
All dripping wet. 
And cold as stone, 
They moan and groan 
And groan and moan. 
Where ever shall they get ? 
238 



DAISY AND BUTTERCUP 

At last a kind old gentleman 

Came walking down the road, 
And saw the poor dear little flowers — 

''Too bad, upon my word, " 
He said, ''that you should get so wet; 

ril take you home with me, my dears, 
To my own little Pet, 

Shell make you dearies in a trice 
All glad and snug and warm and nice. 

Oh come, come, dry your tears!" 
He stooped down gently, and he took 

Each dripping little flower, 
And placed it softly in his book 

Safe from the angry shower. 
And then he put the book away 

In a pocket on his breast ; 
The little darlings went to sleep 

So glad to be at rest. 
When they were wide awake again. 

Their little leaves in curl, 
Why ! where do you think they found themselves ? 

In the hands of a little Girl ! 
So happy they were when they looked up 

The Daisy and the Buttercup. 



239 



'W™ 



TO CHARLOTTE 

HERE are 3^ou going, my pretty maid?*' 
To post a valentine," she said. 



'* Whom is it to, my pretty maid?" 
''That I can't tell you, I'm afraid." 

'' But what if I look at the envelope?" 
''You wouldn't be so rude, I hope!" 

" Perhaps it's to me, my pretty maid?' ' 
** You'll have to guess again," she said. 

" I beg your pardon, but I see 
The address, plain as plain can be. 

" It's to 'Papa,' my. little maid." 
"Well, don't I love him best?" she said. 



240 



ELSIE'S PARTY: WELCOME 

SWEET April has come back again 
With sunshine and with gentle rain, 

To soften hard old winter's heart 
And bid the flowers and grasses start. 

To whisper to the birds — *'Fly home, 
The time for building nests has come." 

To make the earth each day more fair 
Shedding a glory everywhere ! 

And our glad hearts are all in tune 
To welcome you this afternoon 

With song and speech from little elves — 
Who'll— stay and see what for yourselves! 



i6 241 



ELSIE'S PARTY: FINALE 

OUR little play is over, 
No more the prompter calls, 
The lights grow dim and dimmer, 
The final curtain falls. 

The Juvenile Peak Sisters 
From Pike his Peak out west 

To give you entertainment 
Have done their very best. 

And for your kind attention 

And generous applause 
For which, dear friends and neighbors, 

We tried to give you cause, 

We now before we leave you 
Our hearty thanks would speak 

In our own kind and fashion 
Which is — Peak Sisters Peak ! 



242 



ii 



TO CHARLOTTE 

OH, if I were a gallant knight 
And rode a prancing steed 
I'd spur him on, this Saint's dear day, 
And to your window speed. 

''Give me, " I'd cry, *' a ribbon. Love, 

Or just a finger ring. 
Or precious lock of shining hair, 

Nay — any trifling thing!" 

And I should place it next my heart, 
And proudly ride and fleet. 

To fight for love and truth and right 
Which means for you, my sweet ! 

If blameless, then I'd hie me back 
Tho' barriers should combine, 

And whisper softly — ''Lady, may 
I be your Valentine?" 



243 



WHAT WOULD YOU DO 



"brownie" 



N 



OW what would you do please, if you were 
a kitten? 



CHARLOTTE 

I'd play with the ball of a half-finished mitten. 



"brownie'' 



I wouldn't, I'd just go all over the house, 
To find a live plaything and that is a mouse. 



CHARLOTTE 



I'd rather curl up in some little girl's lap. 

Or in some dear Grandma's when taking her nap. 

''brownie" 

Oh, pleasanter far a fine morning in spring 
To gather some catnip, I'm fond of the thing. 

BOTH, HOLDING HANDS 

I know what we'd both do — if kittens— and 

that's 
Just grow in a very short time to be cats ! 

244 



1 



TO CHARLOTTE: WITH A COPY OF 
"PILGRIM'S PROGRESS." 

OH, little Pilgrim entering 
Upon the Heavenly road, 
Oh, little heart unburdened, 
As yet, by any load, 

Only by stillest waters 

Where greenest pastures be, 

God lead thee till His city 
Thy happy eyes shall see. 



245* 



TO ELSIE: A VALENTINE 

I^LL choose me now a Valentine, 
— A jewel that shall never tine — 
She must be fair and sweet and true 

And pure as springtime's morning dew, 
With eyes that hold a world of love, 

And a calm brow those eyes above 
Whereon whoever looks must feel 

That Truth has set its perfect seal. 
Her smile must have the radiant power 

To glorify the darkest hour, 
Her Voice come melting from her throat 

Soft as the ring-dove's plaintive note — 
Where shall I find this Valentine, 

This jewel that shall never tine? 
Nay, search your own heart, little Girl, 

And you will find this priceless Pearl. 



2^6 



TO CHARLOTTE: WITH' A BOX OF 
MARSHMALLOWS 

MARSHMALLOW 

IT hears the birds at their matins, 
It sees the dome of the sky, 
And watches the dreamy shadows, 
That low on the marshes he. 

Pink as a sea shell's lining, 

Glad as a lamb at play. 
It gathers into its bosom 

The entire light of day. 

Its root in the shifting marshlands, 

It raises its heart above, 
And distils its hidden sweetness 

For the Lady of my Love ! 



247 



TO "BROWNIE" 

OCOME, my little nut-brown maid, 
And sit thee down by me 
While I recount the different ways 
In which thou'rt dear to me. 

Thou'rt dear to me because thine eyes 

Are deeply brown and true 
And filled with happy sunshine, 

Sometimes with tears, like dew. 

Thou'rt dear to me because thy hair 

Is like a pony's mane 
That restless tosses up and down 

And down and up again. 

Thou'rt dear to me because thy mouth 

Is like a rosebud sweet. 
The tender home of gentle words 

Where mirth and goodness meet . 

But thou art dearest, dear to me 

Because thy heart is true 
And full of little kindnesses, 

Sweet nut-brown maid, adieu. 



248 



i 



THE '7APANEvSE FAN 



TO " BROWNIE " 



THERE was a small maiden 
That came from Japan, 
And she Hved quite alone 
On one side of a fan. 

She wore a big sash, 

And had skewers in her hair, 
And, braced upon nothing. 

She sat in the air. 

How she managed to do it 

I really can't say, 
Unless in Japan things 

Are queered in that way. 

She hadn't the semblance 

Of even a cloud 
To support her, puzzling 

It must be allowed. 

I pitied her so 

Sitting always like that 
That I thought I would draw 

A chair where she sat. 
249 



THE JAPAN EvSE FAN 

But then to myself I 

Said, ''What if you please 

Would the chair rest upon 
You'd provide for her ease? ' 

"Oh! I have it," I cried 

My pencil in air, 
''The soft waning moon 

She shall have for a chair. " 

My pencil I used, and 

As snug as a coon 
In a tree cuddled up 

Lolls the girl in the moon. 

I can look at her now 

And my back doesn't ache 

And my neck isn't stiff 

And my knee joints don't quake 

I can now take my comfort 
Night, morning, and noon, 

My feet on the fender. 
My Girl in the moon. 



250 



TO CHARLOTTE 

DEAR child, I ask not what I woul i 
For who can pray aright ? 
Denied desires may work for good , 
And granted mar and bHght. 

Therefore I make this only prayer, 
Sweet woman child, for thee, — 

As guide and stay may Love be there 
Where'er thy pathway be. 



251 



TO CHARLOTTE 

ONLY a child but y ester year, 
But time will have its way — ^Ah me ! 
And now her eager feet draw near 

To where the streamlet meets the sea. 

Forever on, and tarry not 

Love like an ocean deep and wide 

Awaits thy coming, maiden fleet, 

Yield thee — and thine are time and tide. 

On errands it will carry thee 

Of sacrifice or high emprise, 
Until thy longing eyes shall see 

The day-dawn of the ''Happy Isles." 



252 I 



I 



EASTER 

TO ELSIE 

THO' death itself had coldly sealed 
The lips that spoke, 
See Mary at the Master's tomb 

When morning broke. 
Obedient to the living word 

Of the Lord Christ, 
In perfect trust and unafraid 

She kept her tryst. 
And lo, without the vacant tomb 

Her name she heard, — 
'' Mary ! " She turned herself and saith : 

"Rabboni!" "Lordly- 
Great conqueror of life and death 

I turn to Thee. 
Tho' long the night, when morning breaks 

Oh, call Thou me! 



253 



TO CHARLOTTE: EIGHTEEN 

LOVE may not be overtaken 
Upon the great highway, 

With barter and requital 

And in the glare of day; 

Nay, Lass, the rather hide thee 
In dreamland cloisters dim 
Where thou mayst safely bide thee 
Till one seek thee, and to him 
— God grant the happy day — 
Give, give thy heart away ! 



254 



ji 



EASTER 



TO BROWNIE 



M 



AH, may the risen Lord to-day 
For us have sweet surprise, 
And as we question, by the way, 
Unseal our holden eyes, - 

That we with new and burning hearts 

May look into His face, 
And hear the wondrous words He speaks 

If only for a space, 

How Love alone, is Conqueror, 

And there is none beside. 
In heaven or earth, — Christ in our hearts 

Still may this truth abide. 



255 



TO CHARLOTTE: IN EUROPE 

THERE'S a little Lass over the water, 
The dearest of lassies to me, 
And I wish she might for one moment 

Come back again over the sea. 
But why do Lutter vagaries 

When such a thing never could be? 

Nay, he of the vision of Patmos 

Has told how in Heaven above 
There shall be no more sea, blessed Homeland! 

Then what can irapossible prove 
To the hearts that in unity traverse 

The ineffable Heaven of Love? 

So I walk and I talk with my Lassie 

Whenever in fancy I roam. 
And dream of the time of her coming 

Across the great highway of foam 
From far lands of song and of story 

Back, back to the old folks at Home ! 



256 



EASTER 

TO ELSIE AND ''bROWNIE" 

THE Lord is risen, the angels tell, 
Behold the awful miracle: 
The stone rolled by the tomb unsealed. 
The power of the Christ revealed. 

Oh, wondering souls, is this the test 

On which your hopes of Heaven ye rest 

Nay, Christ is risen each hour for you 
That sees you patient, brave, and true. 

And every day is Easter Day 
Whene'er the angels roll away 

From off your souls their burdening load 
And ye have glimpses of your God. 



257 



TO CHARLOTTE : AT THE TIME OF THE 
CANONIZATION OF JOAN OF ARC 

JOAN OF ARC 

OH, peasant girl of Orleans, 
In the skies of our worldly day 
Are seen no Heavenly visions. 
Is heard no call to obey. 

The mystic, inner whisperings, yet 

The story of your fears. 
Your triumphs and your martyrdom , 

Blinds all our eyes with tears. 

For you held your country's banner 
At the head of a conquering host, 

Then saw it rent by scorn and hate. 
With all it stood for — lost. 

But there came the final glory, 
The stake and the martyr flame 

Unquenchable, to aureole 
Forevermore your name : 

Be the story an evangel 

To us, and may God impart, 
Even now, some Heavenly vision 

To each obedient heart. 



258 



TO ELSIE: WITH A COPY OF WILLIAM 
MORRIS'S POEMS 

THE Singer, not the song is new, 
The Prophet, not the theme, 
The Rose-leaf, not the drop of dew, 

The Dreamer, not the dream. 
The morning stars together sang 

Love's song of old, — 
It shall be sung when like a scroll 
The heavens are rolled: 



259 



TO ^'BROWNIE": WITH A BUNCH OF 

VIOLETS 

THE Violets tell each other, 
In the early summer time, 
How long ago some man or boy 

Made up a little rhyme 
About them for a Valentine. 
It went like this, line after line: 
''The Rose is red, the Violet blue, 
Sugar is sweet, and so are you!" 

And so I send these Violets 

To you, my Valentine, 
And let me say the rhyme again 

Adding one little line : 
It's just as true as true can be 
As every one can plainly see — 
''The Rose is red, the Violet blue, 
Sugar is sweet," and Brownie too! 



260 




"DINNA FORGET" 
TO charlotte: with a copy of "gems of 

SCOTTISH song" 

OH, when the fire is on the hearth, 
And winter's storms have come, 
Sit down beside me. Lassie mine, 
And sing the songs of home ! 

The songs of sweetheart and of wife. 

Of husband leal and true. 
The songs of country and of king 

And border bonnets blue . 

*'My Love is like a red, red Rose" • 

And ''Annie Laurie," sing, 
And ' ' Are 3''ou sure the news is true ? ' ' 

Then make the echoes ring, 

With "Scots wha' ha' wi' Wallace bled" 

And Royal Charlie's line — 
Then hand-in-hand, my bonnie Lass, 

We'll sing dear ''Auld Lang Syne." 



261 



TO ELSIE: A SONNET 

1 WOULD not have thy hair a tint more brown, 
I would not want thine eyes a shade more 
blue, 
For dear, my Girl, you would not then be you ! 
And I must forfeit the sweet lore I own : 
For thou hast taught me hair like thine's a 

crown. 
And sea-blue eyes are sweet and brave and true 
And pure as morning-glories wet with dew. 
Where'er I see them meekly looking down ! 
Nor would I have thee wiser, better. Girl, 
For then thou wouldst be canonized outright, 
And I must wed a woman, not a saint. 
Be but thy simple, very self, my Pearl — 
A creature of the Springtime and the Light — 
And I shall never utter a complaint ! 



262 



•i. 



TO CHARLOTTE: WITH A RING 

ONLY a little circle of gold 
And a crystallized drop of dew 
That left their home in the deep, dark earth 
To shine evermore for you. 

For the Birthday has come round again, 

And the circle of gold I send 
As symbol of my love, dear child, 

Without beginning or end. 

For it had birth in the bosom of God 

Through all our race, you see 
And shall never, never have ending 

Through all His eternity. 

Therefore I send the drop of dew 

And the little circle of gold, 
And lift a thankful heart to God 

For the wee Lamb of the fold. 



263 



TO CHARLOTTE 

A HUMBLE and a lowly thing is Love, 
Yet when it draweth nigh 
The heavenly gates are lifted up above 

Into the utmost sky, 
For King of kings and Lord of lords is Love, 

Yet will it enter in 
To hearts that lowliest and humblest prove, 
For Love is — Love ! 



264 



TO CHARLOTTE: WITH "A BOOK OF 
VERSES" 

** A BOOK of Verses underneath the Bough, 
I\ A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread and Thou 

Beside me singing in the Wilderness — 
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!" 

So sang the poet of an earlier day 

''The Wild were Paradise " enough ! — I say 

Had he but known My Lady, his fond heart, 
Methinks, had taught him in this wise to pray: 

With Book of Verses underneath the Tree 
I ask for neither Wine nor Bread — with Thee 

Beside me singing in the Wilderness 

The Wilderness were Heaven itself to me ! 



265 



TO ELSIE: WITH A SOFA PILLOW 

LOVE send you day-dreams from the sky, 
— The Pillow's from a mortal — 
May shadow of his coming lie 
Athwart the New Year's portal. 



266 



TO CHARLOTTE : WITH A COPY OF COL- 
LECTED POEMS BY AUSTIN DOBSON 

OH, listen while the poet sings 
Of quaint and curious old-world things 
We no more know: 
The harpsichord and minuet, 
The powder, paste, and pirouette 
Of long ago. 

What makes the difference year by year — 
Waistcoats and bodices, my dear, 

Fashion and art? — 
Changeless neath homespun newly made 
As erst beneath the stiff brocade 

Beats the true Heart. 



267 



TO CHARLOTTE : WITH A COPY OF THE 
VICTORIAN ANTHOLOGY 

POESY 

AN added delight when things go right, 
A solace when things go wrong, 
When the race is not to the swift of pace. 

Nor the battle to the strong; 
A gleam of light in the dourest night, 

A shade in the glare of day, 
An echo sweet from the soul's retreat, 

A fount by the dusty way. 
One need but will and the poets spill 

Their treasure of golden song, 
That yet shall bide, though the world be wide, 

The day be never so long. 



268 



J 



A 



WHEN CHARLOTTE PLAYS 

T morning time it seemeth me 
The world is made of harmony 
When Charlotte Plays. 



While at the tender gloaming hour 
I fear no more that clouds may lower 
When Charlotte Plays. 

And when the stars fill all the sky 
The very birds wake to reply 
When Charlotte Plays. 

What marvel that I seem to hear 
Those far-off Voices pure and clear 
When Charlotte Plays. 

Of that unseen, immortal throng 
That sings each heart Love's deathless song, 
When Charlotte Plays. 



269 



R. L. S. ONCE MORE 

TO LOUISE 

ONE has called you a "Theologist;' 
Another a ''Romanticist," 
You've been dubbed a *' Sentimentalist, 
Again a ''Shorter Catechist/' 

But Fiction's self has claimed you 

And Poetry far-famed you 
And little children love you 

Holding no friend above you, 
Wishing they too might see you pass 

Kind " Leary, " lighting up the gas ! 

How have you cheered the night for us, 
Lamp-lighter, dear and sedulous, 

Despite your own dark hours of pain !— 
We shall not see your like again. 



270 



A BIRTHDAY PRAYER FOR CHARLOTTE 

THOUGH all may cry ^'Lo here, lo there !'^ 
Marking the way for me, 
To Thee I make this only prayer, 
Lord Christ, of Calvary: 

Thou art not a science, not a creed, 

All other names above, 
We give Thee in our time of need, 

And lo ! That name is Love ! 

Shall I pick up the crumbs that fall 

From liturgy or tome, 
When to the feast of Life, we all 

Are called, who will may come. 

And very Love will sup with us. 

When living waters burst. 
Or drain Life's bitterest cup with us, 

With us cry out— '' I thirst ! " 

I need no Daysman me to lead 

''Into the truth." Ah no. 
He guides me, from His hand I feed, 

He knows the way I go. 

271 



A BIRTHDAY PRAYER 

Light of the world, enough for me, 
To know that Thou art mine, 

Were there in Hfe no mystery. 
That Light need never shine. 

Were there no pain in Ufe for me, 
Calvary had never' been; 

I conquer by that sign of Thee, 
Oh, Love, dear Love, Amen! 



272 



ji_i 



LAKE GEORGE 

TO CHARLOTTE 

A BLESSED calm beyond all comprehending, 
Like God's own peace unto His loved ones 
sent, 
And joy that knows no earthly apprehending 
Dwell in thy bosom, Lake St. Sacrament. 

Clear as the river of the saints' beholding, 
Blue as the tears an angel might have shed; 

Meet home for virgin lilies' sweet unfolding, 
In quietude each lifts its shining head. 

Such peace, dear God, as deep and as abiding, 
Fill all her life, for whom to-day we pray. 

We cannot know, alone in Thee confiding. 
We beg, be Love the Light, the Truth, the 
Way. 



i8 



273 



CHARLOTTE AT THE PIANO 

WHEN her dear hands the keys caress 
Are to my soul revealed 
Old longings for the hidden things 
Earth has not power to yield : 

The love of hearts tried in the fire, 

The faith in what is true, 
The yearning for the mountain top 

The Vision to renew. 

What witchery is in her touch ! 

I hear the morning's song, 
The twilight's wistful whisperings, 

The sea's beat wild and strong. 

Soft cadences I cannot name, 
Like stars with stars that rhyme, 

As if their rapture we might share 
For our brief point of tim.e. 

And paltry values of the world 

Dwindle to nothingness : — 
All this is when her woman hands 

The throbbing keys caress. 



274 



TO LOUISE 

DEAR Lass, in times of joy or ease, 
All dainty, sweet, and sure to please; 
But when the shadows grow, at length 
A tent-prop, a tall tower of strength ! 
Sweet Louise. 

Her girlish laughter fills the air, 
She loves a world without a care. 

But when it comes, as come it may, 
Behold her, when the skies are gray! 
Brave Louise. 

A girl, and 3^et a woman too, 

She nothing knows but to be true, 

Though having learned in the short years 
That loyal hearts may break in tears I 
True Louise. 

We who are wearied and depressed 
Find in her strength a grateful rest ; 

May we not lean too heavily, 
Oh, Joy of all our days, on thee! 
Dear Louise. 



275 



IN, TOWN 

TO CHARLOTTE 

A SUMMER in town 
Has joys of its own, 
Ladv fair. 
Still sounds the old sea 
In infinite glee 
Or deep minor key 
Past compare! 

The same silvery moon 
Beams softly upon 

The still street 
Where lovers speak low — 
What surely they know — 
That come weal or woe 

Life is sweet. 

But not all seek sleep, 
For lonely hearts keep 

Vigil here. 
What is it that we 
So yearn for?— ah, me! 
Come back and you'll see, 

Lady dear. 



276 



MOTHERHOOD 

TO H. W. R. L. 

IN the new world we entered, he and I, 
What time in sight of angels and of men 
We were made man and wife forever, when 
Unbarred, unbanned, the gates were lifted high 
Of holy Eden, as our souls drew nigh. 
So strange it seemed, so very strange, and then 
It was as we had ne'er been else; again 
We cried, *' Ah, who shall guide? '' — lo ! the reply : 
Into the valley of the shade of death 
I entered, and my hands laid hold upon 
Thy garment's hem, O God forever blest! 
Then at my breast I felt the soft new breath, 
The lips' warm pressure of our son, our son! 
''A little child shall lead them." Let me rest. 



-^n 



NIGHT AND MORNING 

TO ROBIN 

WITH garters and strings 
And buttons and things, 
It's hard work undressing at night ; 
Teeth cleaning, besides, 
When Ted always hides 
My brush, and we get in a fight. 

Not a real fight, you know. 
But a pillow fight, though 

It sometimes gets real, sure enough; 
Then the pillow case tears, 
And we both say our prayers — 

Mamma should get heavier stuff. 

A scrimmage about, 

The light putting out — 
It's usually I that does that. 

I pop into bed ; 

Ted stands on his head, 
Just like a real show acrobat. 
278 



NIGHT AND MORNING 

He*s too droll by half — 

We laugh and we laugh 
Till we hear Papa's voice down below : 

''Less noise there, boys, boys! 

Do you hear me ? less noise ! ' ' 
And for fear there'll be trouble, you- know, 

We lie very still. 

And know nothing till 
Dear Mamma wakes us up with a kiss. 

More buttons and strings 

And garters and things — 
Will there always be bother like this? 



279 



SPENCER 

WHO puts the ancients in the shade 
With questions he himself has made ? 

"Spen." 

Who is it knows we're in a muff 
When we reply with arrant bluff? 

"Spen." 

Who is it can be what he will 
From motor-man to '^ack" or "Jill"? 

"Spen." 

Who happy as the day is long 
Rejoices in a rousing song? 

"Span." 

Who is it, an incarnate joy 
Holds the whole universe his toy? 

"Spen." 

Who is it shames our petty ways, 
Our narrow aims, and empty days? 

"Spen." 

Who rouses thoughts beyond our speech 
That only unto God can reach ? 

"Spen." 
280 



GOOD-MORNING 

TO HARRY 

GET up, get up, my boys and girls, 
The birds are calling you, 
The flowers had their faces washed 

Long, long ago with dew. 
The sun is very much surprised 

To see you not at pla}^ . 
Get up, get up, my boys and girls, 
Thank God for a new dav. 



281 



GOOD-NIGHT 

TO HARRY 

COME, come, my little boys and girls, 
'Tis time to go to bed, 
The flowers are dreaming sweetest dreams, 

Each bird has hid its head. 
The sun has kissed the world good-night, 

God's stillness fills the air, 
Good-night, good-night, my boys and girls, 
Heaven have us in its care. 



282. 



TO MALCOLM 

WHEN King Malcolm reigned in Scotland 
Centuries ago, 
Where were you, his little namesake, 
I should like to know? 

Where your Mother, where your Daddy, 

Where Elizabeth, 
Where, in fact, was any one who 

Draws to-day life's breath? 

Where the *' Motor-car '* and *' Movies,'' 

Where the '' Wireless," 
Where the '' Telephone" and ''Air-ships," 

Who can ever guess ? 

But you waited to be born, till 

Time these things should bring; 
Old Malcolm was a King— but then 

He didn't know a thing ! 



283 



EASTER, 1902 

TO BESSIE 

OH, no, it is a waste of breath. 
The schoolmen ne'er can make it plain. 
The mystery of life in death, 
It is enough, He lives again. 

Behold o'er all the vernal earth. 
Afar and near, the tidings spread ; 

In quickened clod and violets' birth; 
He lives again, Love is not dead. 

The withered forest shall we see. 

Or frondless bracken of the fen. 
New clothed in immortality, 

And not the longing hearts of men. 

Faint not, my soul, Love will retrieve 
Life, e'en in wasted stem and leaf. 

There is no death. Lord, I believe, 
Help Thou my craven unbehef . 



284 



TO ELSIE 

THE day is drawing near, my Lass, 
When you and he shall wed, 
When his ring shall bind your finger, 
And all the vows be said. 

Kindred and friends shall gather round, 

Coming from far and wide, 
To pray God's blessing on the Day, 

The Bridegroom, and the Bride. 

And the dear Lord God will listen 

To this, our one request : 
That Mary's Son, Immortal Love, 

May be the unseen Guest 

That shall, as once at Cana's feast, 

Turn, with a touch divine. 
Through all the years to come, for you. 

Life's waters into wine. 



285 



TO LITTLE ELSIE: A CRADLE SONG 

OH, baby, 'tis thy mother's arms 
Enfold thee — she who soothes thy cry, 
Chanting thee one of God's dear Psalms 
For lullaby. 

The Lord, wee lamb, thy Shepherd is, 
In pastures green, by waters sweet, 
The paths of right thou cans't not miss: 
He guides thy feet. 

For thee He doth Himself prepare 
The very Bread of Life; and lo, 
The Cup of Love doth everywhere 
For thee o'erflow. 

His goodness and His mercy wide 
Through all thy days shall follow thee, 
And thou in His own House shalt bide 
Eternally. 



286 



"NOW I LAY ME— "(REVISED) 

TO LITTLE ELSIE 

NOW I lay me down to sleep , 
I give myself to God to keep , 
With all I love, and when we wake, 
Still keep us. Lord, for Jesus' sake. 

Amen. 



287 



THE PARTY 

TO LITTLE ELSIE 

T TS Hi ! for the Party and it^s Ho ! for the Party, 
1 And who'll to the Party with me? 
There are joys at the Party, 
And toys at the Party, 
And a birthday cake for tea ! 

There are girls at the Party, 
With curls, at the Party, 
And dancing one, two, three; 
There are boys at the Party, 
And there's noise at the Party, 
And laughter, songs, and glee. 

It's *^ good-night" to the Party 

At twilight, when the Party 

Is over and done the play ; 

To the birthday, '* good-night, " 

To the grown-ups, *' good-night" — 

God bless us all, we pray. 



288 



THE BABY'S CURL 

TO LITTLE ELSIE 

OUT from the letter's close embrace 
The Baby's tress unrolled 
As from some mystic, ageless loom 
Shot through with threads of gold. 

Its warp and woof, like molten bronze, 

Around my finger curled — 
The wonder of the deathless hair 

In a sad mortal world ! 

It seemed a link in that vast chain, 
Dear Child, that leads from earth, 

Unto God's altar stairs, whereon 
She treads, who gave thee birth. 

Radiant, she works with God for thee. 
Nor knows our wild alarms — 

When born again thou enter'st Heaven 
Thou shalt fall in her arms ! 



19 289 



ELSIE BLAKE KING 

The news of the sudden death of Elsie Blake 
King at her home in White Plains, on the 
twenty-fifth of January, 191 1, came with a 
shock that carried dismay to the hearts of her 
people, her classmates, and her wide circle of 
friends. To us all, it was as if most lovely 
music had unexpectedly ceased, since we were 
to hear no more that incomparable voice. So 
vivid was the impression she everywhere made, 
so diffusive her e very-day gladness, so keen her 
zest of life, that it will be long before we can 
make it true to our hearts that her earthly task 
is finished. And in what a high and exultant 
mood she took her task upon her, holding out 
both hands to welcome each day whatever it 
might bring; every experience came to her 
charged with real significance, effort was the 
breath of her life and its own exceeding great 
reward. A gladder heart never beat, and the 
brief, radiant life rounded to completion before 
ever the shadows closed in, or the days grew long. 
In the hearts that loved her is immortalized a 
presence which, in dissemination, must forever 

290 



ELSIE BLAKE KING 

grow from strength to strength and from grace 
to grace: it will be felt in a fresh uplift of 
the whole tone of the School which she loved, 
and live on in classroom, hall, and sacred 
chapel. 

The quality of the scholarship of Elsie Blake 
King reflects a distinction upon the Institute, for 
it was a giving back to her Alma Mater of that 
which she first received from her: there she 
learned those enduring lessons that are far and 
away beyond the mere enlightenment imparted 
by the text-book in the teacher's hand, and 
imbibed not only the ''love of knowledge, but 
the knowledge of love." Like a shepherd the 
true teacher knows his own, and his own know 
his voice : listening, she heard with both mind and 
heart. Such a pupil is to the devoted instructor 
the supreme reward, and makes of his, or .her, 
vocation not alone the finest of fine arts, but a 
veritable ''high calling." 

An irreparable loss has fallen upon the Class of 
1903; that community of interests which is the 
life of every class, never wholly ceases however 
separated its members may be after graduation. 
What memories they hold in common! how 
thoroughly they know each other! The love 
of the Class of 1903 for Elsie Blake King was 
born of beautiful intimacy. An inspiration she 
was in the class-room and in those memorable 

291 



ELSIE BLAKE KING 

'* good-times" when the social graces— which 
were so eminentty hers— are called in play, a 
gracious presence and an inestimable influence. 
Well may her classmates cry out : 

''In the hour of our need, 
Like an angel appear 
Radiant with ardor divine, 
Strengthen the wavering line, 
Stablish, continue our march 
On to the bound of the waste, 
On to the city of God." 

For the Alumnae, both those who are novices 
in the Sisterhood, and those who sit beside the 
weary road to hear the angel's sing, there is a 
new, young, triumphant voice in that ''Choir 
Invisible, whose music is the gladness of the 
world." 

Testing our lives by the discipleship of our 
loved one, we are inclined to look upon high 
and endearing qualities not as attainments, but 
as gifts conferred by the immanent hand of the 
Creator; but so to consider is to miss the lesson : 
her many-sidedness, exquisite courtesy, lovely 
personality, and even the rare music of her 
voice were the flowering of an intense moral 
earnestness that formed the base of her char- 
acter. Gifted she assuredly was, but as the 
stem is dowered with the blossom. 

292 



ELSIE BLAKE KING 

To love her was more than a liberal education : 
it was a lifting of one's spirit into the things of 
God to which she had attained; of a generation 
that is in very real danger of mistaking ethics 
for religion and altruism for sympathy, she yet 
walked in quiet obedience to the Heavenly 
Vision, heeding always the divine instruction: 
** Little children, love one another." Her great 
heart enfolded not only her people, her class- 
mates, and her countless friends, it embraced 
with a Christlike compassion the neglected, 
miserable children of the tenements; these 
she loved, not theoretically, not experimentally, 
but by making her own the hopeless drav/backs 
and meager pleasures of their pitiable little 
lives. Was there ever any heart that could so 
nobly rejoice with those that rejoice, or so 
tenderly weep with those that weep! The New 
Commandment was the law of her life: for love 
she lived, for love's sake she laid down her 
life. The pure white flame lit up the little 
spark and then aspired to God. 



293 



i 



a 



